Forgiveness and Flight - Chapter 23
Forgiveness and Flight - Chapter 23
“Yes, I am,” Julia laughed, before motioning towards the girl who sat nearby. “Anyways, this is-” “Laschna?” Erin asked incredulously. “Erin,” the girl smiled.
Forced of fate, he shall find his way
to the refuge ready for race of man,
for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
and there his body on bed of death
shall rest after revel.
-Beowulf
Deep, deep within the cold, arctic wastes of Vanaheim, where no mortal dared tread, save the most foolhardy or brave, there lay a castle, etched within the ice. Its black, metallic spires and twisted, wounded geometries gave the impression of something very old and very miserable. So high the castle stood its peak was lost amidst the clouds. So wide the castle stretched its girth would take days, nay, weeks to walk from end to end. And so twisted and bizarre was its pained, howling structure its sight would drive lesser men to madness. But if one was brave enough to venture within, to dare attempt a voyage in the belly of this bestial bastion, the most surprising feature would not be what was found, but what was not. For while the castle interior was just as bizarre and alien as its outer walls, if not more so, its only inhabitants would appear to be the ice and snow that grew like unchecked ivy throughout the halls, and the wind that whistled down the blackened corridors, lit only by the light of the moon, for no sunlight reached this dark and desolate corner of the southern wastes. But in one lone room, the library, there still remained a man-made light, the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness, to illuminate the sole living resident of the castle, along with his faithful pet and frequent guest.
“Ah, my friend, I trust the book was to your liking?” Count Magnus de la Groan grinned gently as he stroked his loyal pet, who nuzzled lovingly in his lap.
“Yes,” Lang pushed the little, green diary across the table. “A bit hard to understand in places, but an overall positive experience.”
“Gnaiih,” the pet purred pitifully, its belly hungry and crying for food.
“Hush little one,” Magnus sighed sadly. “You know I cannot.”
“Gnaiih,” the pet whined but acquiesced.
“So, my friend,” Magnus turned his attention back to his guest, “Even you must admit this diary proves my position.”
“If you’re referring to our previous conversation,” Lang sighed, “Then I’m afraid I still can’t agree with you.”
“Oh but surely now!” Magnus huffed. “Even you must agree the girl was innocent, no matter what evil magics she may have unwittingly performed.”
“Yes, I know,” Lang said. “But regardless of the girl’s innocent intentions, the magics were still performed, and while the diary never went into details, she may very well have hurt someone with her actions.”
“But come,” Magnus protested. “Even in your heavenly court, are there not recognized such acts as manslaughter, accidental or unintentional acts of violence and chaos where the criminal is just as blameless as the victim?”
“Yes,” Lang nodded. “But even if intentions are innocent, actions must be punished. A manslaughter may get you a lighter sentence than a murder, but the law must pass a sentence nonetheless.”
“Then you would punish this little girl, whose only crime was that she trusted the adults around her, and did as they told her to do?” Magnus whispered incredulously.
At that Lang gave a sad smile. “No, my friend. Even I am not so cruel. But I find your assertion of true evil arising from intent rather than action, whilst seemingly nuanced, to be just as reductive as the ideas it seeks to challenge. Take your pet, for instance.”
“Gnaiih?” the pet moved closer to Magnus, fear etched in its eyes.
“What about it?” Magnus asked defensively.
“Well, by your logic, it hasn’t got an evil bone in its body. Does it even have bones? I don’t know. But regardless, because your pet is little more than a dumb animal, it can’t be evil. All well and good, but that doesn’t change what it did to those people.”
“It was hungry,” Magnus clutched the pet tightly to his chest. “It didn’t… it didn’t know any better.”
“And yet, as you and I both know,” Lang continued calmly, “It doesn’t need to eat. It’s perfectly capable of living out here, where there’s nothing living for miles around.”
“That’s why we came!” Magnus cried. “That’s why we fled. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let them kill it. Back north, it would have ended up hurting more people. But out here, out here they’re safe. We’re safe.”
“Ah, and there, that’s it,” Lang said. “In the end, you did punish it for its actions. You just gave it a lighter punishment, isolation, instead of what those villagers had planned, execution.”
“You must think me a fool,” Magnus whispered. “A blind, deluded fool. If only you knew. Knew the loneliness, the pain of… of watching everything crumble and die around you. I am so old. Older than this castle even. To have someone, anyone, to share this oldness with, it… it’s everything to me.”
It was a while before Lang spoke again.
“I know,” he sighed at last. “More than you may realize, even, I know. Perhaps…”
But then at once, the three denizens of the den raised their heads in wary alert. There was a chill in the air. Not the natural, frosty nip so common to those lands of ice, but an ethereal, uneasy wave that rippled through the whole of the castle.
“We have another guest,” Magnus murmured.
“And the purpose of their visit?” Lang asked.
“I… do not know,” Magnus rose and bade his pet to remain. “Stay here, little one. I’ll look into it.”
“I see. Should I see myself out?” Lang inquired.
“Yes. Perhaps you’d better,” Magnus said, and as he glanced once more at the chair where Lang had sat, he saw now only a frozen pile of bones.
“Gnaiih,” the pet pleaded. Don’t go.
“I must, little one,” Magnus gently said, before he at last made his way to the door. If someone had come to take it away, to hurt it or to kill it, Magnus would not let them succeed. Not on his life.
The witch stood alone in the icy halls, with only a tiny orb of light to guide her. Light was easy for her to cast now, far easier than it had been before she’d taken this power, the power that was rightfully hers. But where was the new light, the light she now sought?
“You must forgive my lack of hospitality,” Magnus strode down a spiral stairwell, his sudden bout of speech blaring like a siren against the oppressive silence, although his voice never rose above a whisper. With a start the witch turned, her orange light flaring in surprise as she moved to face the count. Orange? Magnus furrowed his brow. A strange color for a guiding light.
“Had I known to expect you,” the count continued. “I would have been more easily able to prepare for your arrival.”
“Don’t worry,” the witch grinned. “I don’t intend to stay for long.”
“Really?” Magnus arched a brow. “What, then, do you intend?”
A blow to the head with her staff was all the response the witch gave. Magnus of course saw the attack coming, though to a normal human it would have been too quick to notice, but he made no attempt to dodge. After all, a witch’s staff was hardly a credible threat to
With an audible crack, Magnus felt his bones break as his body was tossed aside like a rag doll across the grand hall. Even as the black metallic floor slammed into him it was a paltry pain compared to the blow from that staff. Great Yehovah, Magnus clutched his bloody, broken cheek. What was that staff made of?
Before he had time to even consider the question, the pole shot across the room like a missile at him, and Magnus barely had time enough to dodge. Confusion met his fright as the count saw that the staff had not been thrown, but rather had extended its way to him.
“No,” Magnus muttered. “It can’t be.”
Then there was a bestial howl, as Magnus saw the witch riding the shortening staff, with an opened flask at the ready to throw. Orange light, the staff, it couldn’t be!
“Monkey!” Magnus lobbed an offensive blast at the witch, knocking her to the ground and spilling her flask to the floor. “How did you get Monkey’s staff? The Golden Clasped Wishing Staff?”
At that the witch chuckled. “By Monkey, you don’t mean that orange primate whose head I chopped off, do you?”
Magnus paled. Monkey, Brother Orange, his life taken and power stolen? The girl must have found him under that rock, the heavenly boulder where Monkey had been imprisoned after his havoc in heaven. The poor beast, Magnus groaned. He would have been defenseless against the witch.
“And you came to finish me off then, like you did my Brother Orange?”
“More or less,” the witch stood up, brushed herself off, and called the staff back to her hand. “I presume you haven’t eaten in years, centuries maybe. Ever since you came here the only time you left was to imprison your master. There’s no way you can win against me.”
To her surprise, the count merely laughed. It was a cruel, mocking laughter, that sent a chill through the witch’s blood as it rang across the darkened corridors, and for the first time since coming here, she felt afraid.
“You think me defenseless?” Magnus flapped out his cloak, to reveal the lining of deep crimson that lay within. “Simply because I have not replenished myself in centuries?”
As blood from the wound on his cheek dripped to the ground, Magnus’ eyes blazed a fiery scarlet, and a deep, unearthly moan bellowed from the castle’s bowels. Alien geometries, etched into the walls and floor, began to glow as the blood that flowed within them regained its circulation.
“You dare to stand against me?” the count’s fangs glistened as he licked the blood from his stained fingers. “Me, Brother Red? Me, first chosen by Deus ex Machina? Me, who ruled nations, led armies, conquered and witnessed whole civilizations before you were even born? You have made a grave error, my child, if you think I will fall as easily as the brother I shall soon avenge! It took the heavens themselves to seal his power. But not even hell has managed to best my might.”
“I know,” the witch said, and quick as a wink, she tossed another flask at the count.
With a flick of his wrist, Magnus easily disposed of the mild annoyance. But as its inky contents splashed upon his wound, a sudden pall fell over his power. Magnus gasped, as the waking of the castle began to falter, and he felt a foreign presence mix with his blood.
“Wh-what did you do to me?” Magnus choked.
“Oh, nothing much,” the witch’s eyes flashed a violet hue. “Just a little mixing.”
Magnus staggered, as he wiped his wound and gazed in horror at the purple ink on his hand. It couldn’t be, and yet, there before him, he recognized the ink of Gogmagog, Brother Violet! No, Magnus groaned. Gogmagog too had cast himself from the world, ever since the flooding of his homeland, to resign himself to a sunken, solitary grave. And this witch, she must have drained dry the tattoos that had given him strength, stolen the center of his magical color just as she’d done with Monkey. But if she commanded two whole colors of the spectrum…
With a cry, the witch swung her staff at the count once more. Nimbly Magnus dodged, and began to cast a spell. But then suddenly, an electric charge surged through his blood, and the count cried out as pain halted his assault. The ink! It was fighting him from within!
There was only one option; only one way to remove this infection from his bloodstream. The witch’s eyes gleamed as a smile flashed across her lips. She thought he was defeated, believed him to be hers. But just as she prepared to deliver the final blow, the count began to chant.
“Spirits of the Spectrum, your servant Red calls for your aid,” he said. “Those that lend the fruit its ripeness, those that give the fire its life, those that bestow the heart its sanguinity, I call upon you!”
And then as tears of blood streamed down his face, a raging river of blood burst forth from the count’s mouth, coating and enveloping the witch completely. The witch screamed as she was powerless to stop the onslaught of blood, and Magnus swooped in towards her, his claws poised to clasp her throat and finish this battle.
But then, with one final, bestial howl, the witch sank her teeth into one of the count’s fingers, whereupon a regal, ruby ring sat, to ferally tear the digit straight off his hand. With a cry of pain, Magnus lurched back, too late to stop the witch from downing a flask of ink to wash down his ring and his blood.
“No…” Magnus gasped. “NO!”
“Yes!” the witch’s eyes flared once more, but this time it was a shade of deepest crimson. The center of his magic was now inside her.
“G-gnaiih?”
Magnus turned, horrified, to see his pet perched upon the stairwell, fright and concern having led it to follow him.
“No!” Magnus screamed. “Run, little one, please! You must-”
Before he could finish, Magnus felt the Golden Clasped Wishing Staff bludgeon through his chest, and he fell to the ground with a cry.
“P-please, little one… run…” Magnus moaned, as he felt the witch creep upon him, her staff at the ready.
Pulling at his hair, the witch placed her staff beside the count’s skull and whispered in his ear. “Any last words?”
“Please…” Magnus murmured. “Leave my pet alone. Let it live. Do with me as you wish but let it live.”
The witch did not speak at first, seeming to consider the question. Then with a haughty laugh, she crushed what little hope the count had left.
“Your ‘pet’ is a monster, just like you,” she cooed. “I’ll be sure to kill it slowly.”
A shudder passed through the count.
“No!” he sobbed. “NO! N-”
Then his skull was crushed by the bludgeoning of the staff, and he sobbed no more. The witch briefly glanced up, only to find that the pet had retreated and was nowhere to be found. Ah well, she shrugged. It hardly mattered. She’d gotten what she’d come for.
With a flick of her wrist, the witch called forth a light to guide her out. As it glowed a sanguine red, she smiled with satisfaction.
Erin gazed out at the sanguine light, as it slowly sank into the sea, far out in the distance. It was said by some that to the east, where the Océan Guinean stretched out from the shores of Vanaheim to the furthest tip of Jianghu, there lay a new world, a new continent of life. Would she someday see it, witness that land with her own two eyes? How much time did she have left?
“Hey, Erin,” Morien joined her on the seaside cliff where she perched. “Julia’s finished getting us some rooms. Come back inside?”
“In a minute,” Erin mumbled. “I’d like to stay a little longer.”
Morien glanced at the sea, rum red with the sun’s light.
“Man, nice view,” he sighed. “It’s beautiful.”
“This is where it happened,” Erin muttered. “The Battle of Ys.”
“The what now?” Morien blinked.
Erin sighed. “You know Cantre’r Gwaelod?”
“Oh yeah!” Morien said. “That’s where Pryderi came from, right?”
Morien grinned as he remembered the stories he’d read as a boy. Pryderi, fourth of the Valiants, was less a hero than a simple survivor. Born of Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, and Rhiannon, a princess of the Otherworld, Pryderi’s role in the grand tales of Cantre’r Gwaelod were often minimal and scarce. But still he was present for them all, as he witnessed the many sights and wonders of that great land now sunk beneath the waves. Giants, wizards, plagues, wars, transformations and tribulations, all these Pryderi witnessed and remembered. And even as he was slain in battle by the trickster-god Gwydion, his spirit lived on in the hearts of the cyfarwyddiaid, those noble storytellers who carried the sunken country’s legacy in their words. It was Pryderi whose spirit ran through them as they recited those weird and wild stories, and Pryderi who would keep those stories alive so long as one man remained to tell them, and another remained to listen. The thought of the cyfarwyddiaid preserving the land of Cantre’r Gwaelod through their stories reminded Morien of the imam, pursuing his own noble quest in the little mosque in Timjeli. How were he and Pakeezah doing? Morien couldn’t help but wonder, and the thought sent a wave of melancholy through his heart.
“Yeah,” Erin brought Morien back to reality. “And after that, after he’d been dead and gone for centuries, Charlemagne came.”
“Really?” Morien scratched his head. “I don’t remember reading about that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Erin plucked up some grass to play with between her fingers. “Everybody says it’s just a legend. Only the giants that once lived there remember the truth.”
“Giants?” Morien furrowed his brow. “Didn’t they all go to Fairyland?”
“All but one,” Erin gazed into the océan’s depths. “Gogmagog, Brother Violet.”
“Oh,” Morien grinned. “You never told me that. So do you want to visit him, since we’re here and all?”
“No, it’s alright,” Erin smiled. “He never has any free time anyway. The only time I ever got to meet him was back when…”
That was right, Morien remembered. Erin and her other spectral siblings had turned against their master, Deus ex Machina, many years ago. Morien still didn’t know all the details. Erin had remained mum on the issue, and Morien had chosen not to pry. So to lighten the mood, the young man changed the subject.
“So how come he’s so busy?” Morien sat down beside his friend.
“H-huh?” Erin was surprised at first, but then saw what Morien was doing, and smiled. “Oh, well, long ago, back when Charlemagne tried to reunite all Augusta, he marched on Cantre’r Gwaelod. The two armies met here, at the Battle of Ys, and, well, it didn’t end so well for either side.”
“What happened?”
“Well, Charlemagne overtook the Lowland army pretty quickly, and it looked like he would win the day. So Gogmagog, leading the Lowland side, offered himself as a sacrifice to the Carolingian army, while the Lowlanders summoned a portal to Fairyland. Gogmagog managed to buy enough time for everyone in Cantre’r Gwaelod to leave, and then he summoned a giant tidal wave to drown the Carolingian forces.”
“I guess that didn’t work out as well as planned,” Morien remarked. “I mean, Charlemagne survived, didn’t he?”
“He did,” Erin nodded. “And so did Gogmagog. Or at least, he’s a ghost now, like Joan is, still underwater and looking for any souls that were left behind. He’s probably found all of them by now, it’s been centuries after all. But… I don’t know if he’ll ever get to Fairyland.”
“Why not?”
“Think about it, Morien,” Erin sighed. “Joan, Gogmagog, Bluebeard, their power prevents them from entering the afterlife. Whether it’s Heaven, Annwn, or Hell, being a Spectral Sorcerer ties you to the living world.”
“So…” Morien slowly understood. “Wait. Then… when you…”
“I don’t know,” Erin let the grass go. “I don’t know.”
The two remained in silence, staring out at the blood-red océan.
“I am the lonely one
You are the only one
We are the lovely ones
Who dance the day away
He is a manly one
She is a girlish one
They are the darling ones
Who mean just what they say
One or two or three can be most anything
Me, you, us, him, her, we’re all the same
One for all, all for one, all together having fun
Hear you all just now just what I say”
Yann’s lyrical lesson was going down smashingly with the other inn’s guests, as evidenced by the smashing flagons of ale being thrown in joyous uproar.
“Gosh,” one patron grinned. “I is learnin’ so much right now.”
“We all is!” his brethren cried.
“Why golly miss,” the innkeeper beamed at Julia, who now leaned lazily at the bar where he worked. “I must say, your bard am amazing!”
“Yes, yes,” Julia grinned slyly. “Just remember your end of the bargain.”
“Is you kidding?” the innkeeper laughed. “Why, I are so impressed, I are willing to forego a simple discount and let you all stay for free!”
“Yeah, gotta agree with you on that,” a girl at the bar sipped tepidly at her ale. “I am most enthused.”
“I take it you’re not a regular here?” Julia chanced a guess.
“No,” the girl turned her gaze to Julia, and the merchant saw she was as pale and gaunt as a well-rotted corpse. “How’d you guess?”
“Just a hunch,” Julia grinned. “So what brings you round these parts?”
“Collecting,” the girl grunted, her sleepy eyes betraying no emotion. “There’s a flower that grows in these parts. Makes a nice dye. I can use it for my dolls.”
“Groovy,” Julia decided not to pry any further. “We’ve been declared persona non grata from all the lands of the Carolingian Empire.”
“But you’re in Carolina now.”
“Well we couldn’t just shove off in a single day, could we?” Julia chuffed. “We’ve been making a beeline for the border of Vanaheim, but have you ever tried to get a mule to mush?”
“Yes,” the girl grimaced. “It is a most… tiring experience.”
“Exactly,” Julia turned her attention back to the innkeeper. “Hey buddy, does my friend impress you enough for free drinks?”
“Certainly miss, certainly!” the innkeeper presented a pint of frothing beer. “This am my best ale!”
“Shucks! Thanks,” Julia took a swig and found it to her liking.
“You know,” the girl grunted. “If you want, my home’s also outside of Carolina’s borders. And I could take you there with my magic if you help me find those flowers.”
“Magic, huh?” Julia said. “Say, now that you mention it, we could use something like that.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Julia explained. “See, Vanaheim is just supposed to be a temporary stop, a place where we can rest up and get our bearings before we head off to Hibernia.”
“Hibernia?” the girl grinned. “You don’t say.”
“No,” Julia laughed. “Don’t tell me.”
“Guilty as the hanged man,” the girl chuckled.
“Go figure,” Julia remarked. “You know, we’ve actually got someone in our group from there as well. You’d like her, she’s a pagan sorceress.”
“Oh?” only the girl’s voice betrayed the slightest hint of interest.
“Yeah, goes by the name of- Hey! Erin!” Julia waved over at her friend, who had just entered the inn with Morien by her side.
“Erin?” the girl blinked in surprise.
“Hey Erin, guess what?” Julia tossed her hair back most haughtily. “Not only did I score us all free roam and board, but I also found us a way to Hibernia! Ain’t I just the best?”
“Yes, you is!” the innkeeper said.
“Yes, I am,” Julia laughed, before motioning towards the girl who sat nearby. “Anyways, this is-”
“Laschna?” Erin asked incredulously.
“Erin,” the girl smiled.
The halls of Morgana Academy, foremost institute for witches and enchantresses, were all abuzz with news of a new student.
“Say, did you hear?” Laschna asked Erin as they walked down the halls.
“What?” Erin’s nose was firmly lodged in the pages of a book. Apart from a cursory awareness preventing her from walking into a wall or tripping over something, she had completely shut herself off from the world.
“There’s a new student coming,” Laschna hoped the news would be enough to spark some interest in her friend.
“That’s nice.” No such luck.
“They say she came all the way from Persepolis,” Laschna continued in vain hope. “On a magic carpet.”
“Okay.”
“A magic carpet, Erin. Isn’t that at least somewhat interesting?”
“Huh?” Erin looked up, aware at last that her friend was saying something of mild interest.
“Honestly,” Laschna sighed. “And they say I’m the introvert.”
“Wait…” Erin furrowed her brow as the information she’d received but not picked up began to ferment in her brain. “Why did she come here on a magic carpet?”
“I don’t know,” Laschna shrugged. “It’s just what I heard.”
“Oh, okay then,” Erin prepared to return to her book.
Before she could do so however, two harpies swooped in to devour her.
“Hey! Erin, Laschna!” Mim and Mer, two other students at the academy, noticed Erin and Laschna and went over to talk to them.
“Hey,” Laschna grunted.
“Uh… h-hey,” Erin scrunched up in the hopes that it would make her invisible.
“Guess what?” Mim grinned. “The new girl?”
“She’s in our dorm!” Mer grinned.
“Wait…” Laschna furrowed her brow. “I thought our dorm was all full. How’re they gonna fit her?”
“I heard they were converting one of the rooms into a three-person,” Mim said. “But anyways!”
“We were thinking of throwing her a party,” Mer said. “You know, to make her feel welcome and everything.”
“And we were hoping you’d show up!” Mim and Mer beamed.
“Will there be food?” Laschna knew where her priorities lay.
“Uh… um…” Erin began to shake and shiver with fright. A party? Socializing? Apart from Laschna, Erin hardly ever interacted with anyone in the student body, and even Laschna had been more out of necessity than anything else. They were roommates, after all. But a dorm party, a horde of laughing, smiling, giggling girls, it was too much! Erin would die from embarrassment!
“I’ve… um… g-got some reading to do,” Erin murmured, quiet as a mouse. Yes, far better this way. Books were far easier to deal with than people. They never made her feel bad about her messy hair and pasty skin. They never giggled with grins she was certain masked secret hates and loathings. They never abandoned her at a school because they didn’t know what to do with her. With a mumbled excuse, Erin hurried away to the safety of her dorm room.
“I just don’t get it,” Mim sighed.
“What do we have to do to get through to her?” Mer sighed.
“Just give her time,” Laschna said. “Time and patience.”
There! Erin could see the door to her room, just in front of her. All she had to do was dash inside, lock said door, and hope nobody tried to bother her. Quickly Erin swung the door open and leapt inside, before breathing a sigh of relief at her narrow escape.
“Ah, Erin. Hello.”
Erin’s heart skipped a beat as she saw, standing beside a bunk bed that had been a single only that morning, two women. One, Professor My, Erin recognized, while the other, she did not. A tiny, almost waiflike presence, the girl’s beaming eyes and toothy grin showed a spirit far larger than her frame, as she bounded over to Erin, her arm stretched out in a friendly greeting.
“Hi!” the girl grinned. “My name’s Naomi! I’m from Persia!”
As Erin limply allowed her hand to be shaken, she saw that the girl was indeed from the Persian Empire, if the flowing veil she wore around her head was any indication.
“Naomi here will be your new roommate,” Professor My explained. “Your room was, of course, selected randomly. I hope you all get along.”
“Wh-what?” Erin whimpered. This couldn’t be happening.
“Hey,” Laschna poked her head in. “What’s up?”
“Hi!” Naomi grabbed Laschna’s hand and shook it vigorously, while Laschna herself stared quizzically back in reply.
No, Erin began to panic at the thought of sharing a room with this boundless ball of energy. All at once whatever feelings of safety and security this room had provided her against the onslaught of the outside world left in a flash as this thing, this foreign entity of smiles and small talk, came barreling down on her life. This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t!
“So how have things been?” Erin asked as she sifted through the bushes.
“Oh, y’know, alright. I’m a professor now, I forgot to mention that last time,” Laschna shrugged as she glanced around. This should have been where the flowers grew.
“Yeah, sorry,” Erin grinned sheepishly. “It’s been a while since I last wrote, but… I mean, I’ve just been so busy with, well, this!”
“It’s fine,” Laschna smiled. “I understand.”
“H-how, uh… how’s Naomi?” Erin mumbled nervously.
It was a while before Laschna spoke.
“Well, she had a baby. Although, we sort of knew that would happen.”
“Y-yeah… I guess we did.”
“And she says that she forgives you.”
Erin’s heart stopped for a moment.
“She… what…?”
“Y’know,” Laschna grunted. “For what happened that day.”
For what she’d done that day. That was what Laschna should have said, Erin cursed beneath her breath. How could anyone forgive her for something like that?
“Uh… hey! Hey!” Morien’s voice cut through the air. “I think I found them! The flowers! I think I found them!”
“Let me see,” Laschna made her way towards him, leaving Erin alone with her memories.
“Thanks for letting us host this party in your room, Naomi!” Mim grinned as she poured the young girl a drink.
“Yeah, that was awful nice of you!” Mer grinned as she offered the young girl a snack.
“Well, I mean, I didn’t really know where else to hold it,” Naomi said. “I still don’t quite know my way around.”
“Well then!” Mim exclaimed.
“We’ll have to give you a proper tour some time!” Mer exclaimed.
“Uh, th-that’d be nice, thanks,” Naomi smiled, before chancing a worried glance at the top bunk where Erin lay huddled and out of sight.
Erin had never felt so miserable. Now practically the whole school was in her room! She could hear them, those pretty lips gabbing away. If only she could shut them up! What must they be chittering and chatting about, now that they had pierced her inner sanctum and settled inside her domain? Wow, where did Erin get these clothes? They must be hand-me-down potato sacks! Wow, does Erin really read all these weird books? She must be some kind of freak! Wow, is this where Erin spends all her time? She must be a vampire or something! Just leave me alone! Erin wanted to shout. Alone she was safe, alone she was comfortable, alone she was as she deserved to be. Why did Naomi have to go and ruin everything?
Just then, there was a knock at the door. And as someone opened it, none other than Gloriana Clem made her entrance. Erin knew Gloriana well. Beautiful, talented, loved by all, she was everything Erin was not. And of course she would be here, here where the source of the latest gossip was. It was her divine right.
“So,” she glanced Naomi up and down. “You’re the new girl?”
“That’s me,” Naomi gave a passive grin.
“My name is Gloriana Clem,” Gloriana proclaimed. “Tell me, is it true that you are also royalty?”
“Oh, yes,” Naomi stood up to give a proper royal greeting. “I am Shahzadeh Naomi, daughter of His Imperial Highness, Shah Achmed of the Persian Empire, and Her Imperial Majesty, Shahbanu Banu, Queen of the Peris.”
“Parys?” Laschna pondered. “I got an uncle lives there.”
“No, no, peris,” Naomi said. “You know, winged women who live in the clouds.”
“Wings?” Mim asked.
“So then, do you…?” Mer asked.
“Yes,” Naomi reached down to the veil that trailed down her back and lifted the cloth up, to reveal two grass-green wings peeking out through her clothes.
“I thought you Persian girls were supposed to keep your veil on at all times,” one girl said.
“Well, only in front of men,” Naomi explained as she slowly removed the whole veil and scratched her itching crown. “Technically in front of non-Rahmanite women too, but, I mean, that’s an… ah… nuts, what was the term? Critical? Colorful?”
“C-clerical matter?”
Everyone looked up to see Erin, shyly peeking her head out from the perch where she lay.
“Yeah! That’s it!” Naomi grinned.
“Hey,” Laschna cracked a smile.
“Well then, Shahzadeh,” Gloriana said. “How about you come with me, to my room? We can certainly provide you a party more befitting your royal station.”
“Oh, I’m fine here,” Naomi said. “Thank you though.”
For the briefest of moments a dark shadow flashed over Gloriana’s face. “I… are you sure?”
“Yup,” Naomi grinned. “But if you want to bring your friends over here and join us, we could do that.”
“Er… no. No, I think not. Thank you for the offer though,” Gloriana turned stiffly away. “I’ll see myself out.”
After she was gone, to Erin’s great surprise, Naomi was flooded with cheers and appraisals.
“Wow! You get her, Naomi!” Mim laughed.
“Yeah! That showed her!” Mer laughed.
“Huh? But… what did I do?” Naomi blinked in utter bafflement.
“W-wait, I thought you all liked her,” one girl said.
“No way!” another girl cried.
“She’s so mean!” yet another pouted.
“Yeah, just because her dad’s a baron, she thinks she can treat the rest of us like dirt!”
“Remember when she sent Susan to the bathroom crying?”
“Or the way she treated Cija?”
“She’s such a-”
“Bit chilly, I suppose it must be, now that you don’t have that fancy scarf,” Laschna remarked to Naomi.
“Well, I… guess?” Naomi supposed. “It gets kinda itchy under there though, so I don’t really mind.”
Then, with a quick glance at Erin, Naomi lowered her voice and asked “Um, L-Laschna, do you think it might be a good idea for me to end the party?”
Laschna looked up at her friend, who was listening to the conversation in stunned disbelief. She’d thought they’d loved Gloriana. And yet they’d found her just as cruel and conniving as she had. Erin could still remember the first time she had met Gloriana. She had made her feel so small. But now Erin saw, she wasn’t alone. No, she realized. She wasn’t alone.
“Hey.”
Erin glanced down to see Laschna, with those same, patient eyes staring back at her.
“You wanna join in?”
“I… okay,” Erin whispered, and slowly made her way down the bunk bed.
The rest of the night was filled with much joy and merry-making, and for the first time in a long time, Erin didn’t feel alone anymore.
“Hey, Hobie,” Morien picked the orb up from his resting place in the wagon to wake him up.
With a dim, fizzling light, the Angelic Sphere at last awoke. He had been needing more and more time to rest these past few days.
“Ah… Morien…” Hobie whispered hoarsely. “Have… we reached… Vanaheim yet?”
“Uh… not yet,” Morien glanced outside at the other questers gathering their things as Laschna drew a circle around the wagon. “But we found a way directly to Hibernia!”
“Really?” Hobie flashed briefly with excitement, before dimming sleepily once again. “That… that’s… good…”
“What’s wrong, Hobie?” Morien asked. “Are you sick?”
“No… just… tired… just… please, let me… rest a little… longer…” Hobie’s light slowly faded completely, until Morien was left with nothing but a dark and dead orb.
Are you sick? What a stupid thing to ask, Morien sighed. Deep down, he knew the answer to Hobie’s problem. It was easy to forget, what with the constant, everyday excitement this quest had brought them, what the point of that quest even was. But Tar-Cruorem, the Black-Blooded Baron, was still waking up, and he had already severed Hobie’s connection to Ar-Rahman. With no-one to recharge his energy, Hobie was slowly approaching the end of his lifespan. Morien bit his lip as he clutched the ball of light that had become his friend to his chest. It hadn’t been that long ago Hobie had wanted nothing to do with him. But now… now Hobie was a dear and precious friend. Morien didn’t want to lose him.
Morien looked up as he felt a gentle hand clasp his shoulder. It was Yann, smiling sadly down at him with knowing eyes. And close behind, Erin doing what she always did, smiling and acting like things were no big deal.
“Aw, c’mon Morien,” Erin laughed. “I’m sure we’ll get him right as rain in no time at all!”
“We all ready?” Laschna asked, as she stood in front of her completed pentagram.
“Yup!” Julia gave a thumbs-up from the driver’s seat, and Molly issued an affirmative whinny.
“Then let’s begin,” Laschna raised her hands and began to chant. As she set about her task, a roaring thunderclap rang across the sky, and lightning began to crackle from her hands as the wind howled all around her. Molly began to get antsy, even as Julia issued her sweetest, cooing words of comfort, and the hairs on Morien’s neck began to stand up, as he felt an electric charge surge through the air.
Then, with a mighty blast, the pentagram erupted in a profusion of light, and Morien felt himself being twisted and turned inside, outside, and any which way but loose. The whole ordeal only lasted a moment, but once Morien was at last brought back to his familiar configuration and plane of reality, he felt a tremendous nausea overtake him, and with stumbling feet, he hurried out of the wagon to lose his lunch in some nearby shrubbery.
“Yeah,” Laschna offered him a towel after he was finished. “The first time is always the hardest.”
“S-so did we make it?” Morien gazed groggily up at his surroundings, only to notice that a gaggle of girls was now staring at him.
“Professor!” one girl cried.
“What’s a boy doing here?” another asked.
“Aww! That was the Dragon Mother’s favorite rose bush!”
“Now you’ve done it,” Julia teased.
“Students, these are some guests of mine,” Laschna explained. “They’ve come here on a mission of the utmost importance.”
Hello, Yann poked his head out of the wagon, and instantly elicited a tsunami of squeals and giggles.
“Omigosh!”
“He’s so hot!”
“Where did you find him, Professor Laschna?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“I have neither the time, patience, nor inclination for a boyfriend,” Laschna shrugged.
“W-well then-” a blushing student began.
“Or girlfriend.”
The student’s friends turned to console her as she began to sob.
“Anyways,” Laschna gestured at Morien, who was desperately trying to wipe away the vomit before anyone turned their attention back on him. “This is Morien, of the Songhay Empire.
“This is Julia. She’s from Antile.”
“Hey,” Julia grinned.
“This is Yann, from… where are you from?”
No no, where was he, Yann corrected, and several girls fainted.
“And this…”
“Um, h-hey…” Erin stepped out from the wagon nervously.
“Erin?” several girls erupted.
“The Erin?” several more ran over to see if the girl was real or not.
“T-the?” Erin gibbered.
“You were gifted by Deus ex Machina with the gift of Green!” one girl cried.
“There are only seven Spectral Sorcerers in the whole world!” another exclaimed.
“Can I have your autograph?” yet another asked.
“You’re quite the legend here,” Laschna commented, before motioning to a statue of Erin that stood in the middle of the field. As Morien and the others first noticed the black marble structure, shining in the sunlight, all they could do was stare dumbstruck at the sight.
“B-but… I mean…” Erin was obviously uncomfortable to be in the spotlight like this.
“Uh… h-hey!” Morien drew the attention of Erin’s newfound fans as best he could.
“What?” one girl asked.
“Er, w-well,” Morien screamed inside as he blurted out the first excuse that popped into his head. “It’s just… as Erin’s manager, I uh… I must ask you to leave her alone at the moment. She’s had a very tiring day, and must rest up for her upcoming quest.”
At that, the girls and Erin all blinked in surprise. Manager? What was he saying? Only three figures smiled, as the rest exchanged bemused and confused glances.
“Sorry girls,” Laschna said. “But there’ll be time for autographs later.”
Yes, Yann stretched his arms out wide and walled Erin off from her admirers. At that time, they had to ask the girls to leave.
“Erin has been tasked with a quest by Yehovah Himself!” Julia regaled the girls. “A quest to save the world!”
“Whoa! Really?” the girls asked.
“Wh-what? But I… you mean Mor-” Erin stammered.
“Come on, Erin,” Laschna took her old friend’s hand. “Let me show you to your room.”
As Yann and Julia went over to house Molly in the stables, Morien helped Laschna escort Erin across the school. Everything about Morgana Academy amazed Morien. Just as grand and opulent as Timjeli, it was filled to the brim with students and teachers from all walks of life, coming together for the sake of learning. Of course, while the students and teachers in Timjeli had all been Rahmanite clerics, here they were witches and enchantresses. But in the end, Morien could see the similarities outweighed the differences. Imagine what the library must be like, a shiver of excitement passed through Morien as he imagined miles and miles of bookcases. However, just before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Erin’s voice brought him back to reality.
“So… wh-where are the other teachers?” Erin asked.
“Well, the upper staff are currently meeting with King Holger and Queen Alianora, down in Kronborg. We’re getting a new Vanske teacher, so there are formalities and ceremonies and all that jazz. We’ve got a few people here though.”
“Wait… Holger?” Morien lit up. “Like Holger Vanske?”
Holger Vanske, ninth of the Valiants, was witness to Orlando’s repentance and Bernardo’s treachery at Roncevaux Pass. And though the other paladins in Charlemagne’s court continued to serve their lord loyally, Holger alone questioned the nobility of his king’s campaign. At last, when Charlemagne ordered his men to slaughter a village of fey, Holger’s doubt became outright rebellion, as he and his forces joined with the fey and fled to Holger’s homeland of Vanaheim. There Holger established a new kingdom, where all might live together in that land of ice and snow. And though this kingdom fell as all kingdoms must, to this day Holger’s name and story served as a reminder that virtue and loyalty were not one and the same.
“Funny you should say that,” Laschna grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, but they’re actually one and the same.”
“What?” Morien exclaimed. “Really? But he died, didn’t he? Hundreds and hundreds of years ago!”
“Well, some say he died, others say he just slept or disappeared,” Laschna shrugged. “Either way, he found his way back here, and he’s been king ever since.”
“Why did he come back?” Erin asked.
Laschna paused, as though she sought to choose the most appropriate words. “For Alianora, his queen. He loved her. And… you can do a lot when you’re in love.”
Erin’s sudden sullenness at that remark had been anticipated by Laschna, but Morien’s newfound solemnity caught her off-guard. Now Laschna was stuck with two moping companions. Wonderful, she grumbled. Now she’d done it.
“Anyways, the guest rooms are this way,” Laschna sighed.
“Friends, countrymen, lend me your ears!” the royal scrivener of the Vanske court called the attention of everyone in the banquet hall. On one side of the room sat King Holger and Queen Alianora, on the other the Headmistress, Dragon Mother, and Shanachie of Morgana Academy, with all the various lords and ladies sitting in between. Everyone in Vanaheim would be sad to see the sorceress Andromeda leave, as she was much loved by noble and commoner alike. But for her talent to have drawn the attention of Morgana Academy itself was a tremendous honor, and so, even if her departure was a sad one, all the people were content in the fact that she was to be left in good hands.
“Before we say goodbye to our wonderful Andromeda,” the royal scrivener motioned towards the sorceress, who sat beside her husband and three children. “First we shall exchange gifts, in honor of this marked occasion. Your majesty…”
“Thank you,” Holger stood up and began to list the various items he had prepared as thanks for the Academy’s generosity, as servants brought the gifts in and presented them to the witches. Finest silks, vintage wines, purest jewels, and ancient tomes, all were bestowed upon the weird teachers with the greatest of pomp and ceremony. After all, the royal court of Vanaheim could offer no less.
And neither could the administration of Morgana Academy. After King Holger had sat down, and the three witches had stood up to begin their bearing of gifts, everyone could tell from the smile on the Headmistress’ face that whatever present she had prepared, it was surely the most precious and valuable thing she could think to offer. Breathes were bated as the Dragon Mother pulled out a tiny bag, in which she reached down, down, down until her entire arm had been swallowed whole by the minuscule pouch. Then, with a dimpled beam on her lips, the Dragon Mother pulled out a tiny, white kitten, mewling and adorable. For a moment the court collectively blinked, caught off-guard by this unexpected gift. Then, with a crack of parchment, the Shanachie unfurled a scroll of paper, which slowly rolled its way to the very, very, very end of the room.
“This is Miina,” the Shanachie grunted.
“Nyan,” Miina affirmed.
As Julia and a professor settled Molly into her stable, Yann busied himself by playing with a nearby ox.
“Moo,” said he.
“Thanks a lot, Professor,” Julia reached out one hand in gratitude, as she held Hobie’s lifeless husk in the other.
“Please, call me My,” the petite Kalevalan professor grinned as she shook Julia’s hand.
“Moo,” said the ox as Yann tickled his nose.
“Er… say,” Julia held up Hobie nervously. “If it’s not too much trouble… this school wouldn’t happen to have anything that might give an Angelic Sphere some power, would it?”
“An Angelic Sphere?” Professor My’s eyes widened as she examined Hobie. “My, I never thought I’d see one of those. Hm…”
“Moo,” said the ox as Yann examined the runes on his yoke.
“I confess I don’t know very much on the subject,” My sighed. “But… your sphere here gets its power from light, right?”
“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Julia admittedly wasn’t an expert on Angelic Sphere biology.
“Moo,” said the ox as Yann sang a song for him.
“Well then,” My smiled, “In that case, our best bet is probably to go to the Campus Heart.”
“Heart?” Julia was surprised. “Like, the main field we popped into?”
“Moo,” said the ox as Yann juggled for his amusement.
“No, not quite…” My said. “Maybe it’s better if I just show you.”
“M,” said the ox as Yann quizzed him on the Mycenaean alphabet.
“Alright then. Hey, Yann, you comin’?” Julia called to her friend as the two ladies began to make their exit.
Yes, yes, Yann bounded back over to them, as the ox pleaded for the bard to stay with his pitiful eyes.
“Moo,” said the ox to no avail.
On crimson wings of flame, the witch flew across the snowy wastes. Who should she target next? Blue was lost to her, even with her most expert tracking spells. Indigo was far, far too far away for her to sense beyond the vaguest of hints. Perhaps Yellow…
Then suddenly it hit her. The witch had used so many tracking spells, so as to keep an eye on each light, that when a new color came closer in an instant its presence hit her like a tidal wave. With a cry the witch’s wings dissipated, and she crashed headlong into the snow. The pain and agony in her head continued to blare, even as she dampened the tracking spell and calmed her shaken nerves.
Green was close. Very close. And not only that… she was in Hibernia. The witch began to cackle, as the thought of taking Green became more and more tempting. Reason urged her to reconsider. Caution told her Hibernia would be heavily fortified against magical attack. And prudence advised her to take Green on when she was stronger and more prepared. But there was a deep, deep hunger inside the witch, which no amount of discouragement could contain. Green, Erin, just the thought of it excited her. To hold that girl’s severed head in her hands, and take her power for her own. What difference would one more color make, really? Now was as good a time as any to take on Green. Yes, now was as good a time as any.
With an evil laugh, the witch’s wings burst into life once more, and she soared across the sky like a mighty eagle, talons closing in on her quarry.