Chapter Two
The summoning was challenging. Kayneth's new spell was proving difficult to perform and despite his flawless pentagram design the ritual was requiring far more mana than expected, forcing Isabelle to take an active role. It was near daybreak and her mana levels were approaching a dangerous low. Any lower and Isabelle wasn't confident she could perform healing spells if the need arose.
"We are almost there," Kayneth spoke, panting a bit. The room had grown stiflingly hot and in the dim glow Isabelle could see a thin sheen of sweat over her exposed arms. This was it. One last push of mana and the spirit should materialize. She closed her eyes, concentrating on Kayneth as he spoke the final piece of the incantation.
"If you heed the Grail's call and obey my will and reason, then answer me, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne!"
Isabelle felt her eyes snap open and her head come flying up. What?! I thought we were summoning Iskandar! She immediately looked down at the catalyst, wishing like hell she'd paid closer attention at the start of the ceremony. In the center of the pentagram was a torn piece of cloth, presumably part of Alexander the Great's mantle. However, as she investigated closer Isabelle had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle a yelp. It was purple, the very same purple that wrapped Diarmuid's yellow spear while he lay dying in her dream. Impossible... was her only thought as the room began to shake. The pentagram shattered into a million particles of light before combining to form a blinding red radiance. Isabelle covered her eyes for a moment until the light dimmed. And then she heard a voice, the same voice that haunted her dreams.
"I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the son of Donn, and first warrior of the knights of Fianna. I have heard your call, my Master. I beseech you, my Lord, please step forth and name yourself." His golden eyes bore into her own, searching them expectantly. So intense was his gaze that Isabelle reflexively took a step back, bumping into a nearby desk. She flinched when a familiar sensation of alluring fog invaded her mind. Why is this happening again?! Isabelle wondered in a panic, feeling an almost magnetic pull in his direction. She glanced at Sola-Ui and was alarmed to discover the other woman seemed drawn to him as well. He bears a-a spell! Or curse, or amulet… Her thoughts were drifting off again. No, NO! Not this time.
Isabelle met his stare with determined cobalt eyes, pushing some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. He offered her a dashing smile before taking a step in her direction. God he's handsome- NO! Think about something else! Remembering her saving grace from last night, Isabelle filled her mind with the most obnoxious sound she could think of: a hospital pager. Beep. Beep. Beep. He was coming closer, just a few more steps and he would be right in front of her. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Isabelle let out a breath of relief when her father stepped between them.
"I am Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald," he announced proudly, "ninth generation head of the Archibald family. And you are my lancer class servant, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne." The heroic spirit in question seemed surprised and shot a discreet look her way, as if asking for confirmation. "So there can be no doubt, I present to you my command seals. Let them serve as infallible proof that I am indeed your master." Lancer's gaze snapped back to Kayneth and in one fell motion he kneeled.
"I swear fealty to you, my Lord. I shall be your shield and your spear, please use me as you see fit." Kayneth seemed pleased with this.
"You will obey my every command and you will win me the Grail, servant. And you will protect all members of my house throughout the course of this venture."
"It will be as you say," Lancer replied while keeping his head bowed.
"Good. Now that our pact has been established, this is Sola-Ui," Kayneth stated as the woman in question eagerly stepped forward. "While I serve as your master, she will supply you with the mana necessary to remain materialized."
"Am I linked to any others?" Diarmuid inquired. "While faint, I feel the presence of another mana signature." Kayneth narrowed his eyes a bit at this.
"Impossible," he replied, a little harshly. "You belong to Sola-Ui and myself. That is all."
"Yes, my Lord," he answered before shooting a curious look in Isabelle's direction.
"That is my daughter-"
"Who is very tired and wants to go to bed," she interjected quickly, more than ready to remove herself from the situation. "Everything went well, no limbs were blown off or sent to other dimensions so good job everybody. If you need me, I'll be in my room. Goodnight!" And with that she was out the door and down the hall.
Lancer watched with interest as Isabelle hastily scurried away, refusing to make eye contact with him again. He felt intrigued and a little confused by it all. While Kayneth was undoubtedly his master and lord, it was not Kayneth's voice that reached across the veil to awaken him. It was not the soft, beckoning voice that whispered promises of loyalty and victory.
It was her voice.
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Isabelle hurried quickly past the servants down the hall to her room. She must have looked like a crazy person flinging the door open only to slam it closed but she didn't care. Once safely inside, she pressed her back against the doorframe and tried to calm her racing heart. The alluring sensation was gone now and Isabelle could think clearly again. She took a few deep breathes which seemed to help.
"This is completely insane," she murmured, sinking to the ground with her knees to her chest. The aura around Diarmuid was incredibly strong. It was intoxicating and made her feel entranced and quite enamored with the servant. Isabelle shook her head violently before glancing at the clock. It read 4:03am. On the plus side, she was off service at the hospital for the next week and had time to figure things out. Knowing she wouldn't feel comfortable until the situation was remedied, Isabelle steeled her resolve, grabbed her laptop, and began researching.
This went on for several days. Isabelle kept to her room, having meals and clean laundry delivered by the servants while she furiously searched through scroll after scroll and book after book. Her bedroom took on the appearance of cluttered library as she delved deeper into Diarmuid's legend. It was easy to deduce the problem; a quick internet search took care of that. Finding a solution, on the other hand, was much more difficult. Diarmuid possessed an enchanted mark under his right eye in the form of a mole. It was a magical love spot granted to him by a young girl and it was said that any woman who gazed upon it instantly fell in love with him. It was more of a curse than anything Isabelle decided as she paged through his history. The mark was near impossible to remove and to do so would require magic far beyond Isabelle's scope. But maybe I can nullify its effects on me. Deciding it was worth a shot, she jumped up and grabbed her coat.
As Lancer continued his usual night watch perimeter around the Archibald estate he couldn't help but glance up at Isabelle's window. Wanting to protect her privacy, the first night he did not go near it. However, after overhearing several reports from staff that the young miss was not feeling well he felt obliged to check in. The next night, Diarmuid had peered through her window and was rather amused by what he found. There sat Isabelle fast asleep on an open book and practically buried under scrolls. He could make out some of the titles and felt a smile tug at his lips upon realizing they were all records of Irish and Celtic mythology. There were also some scattered volumes related to curse breaking and several scrolls written in languages he could not understand.
Diarmuid absentmindedly ran his fingers over his love spot recalling how Isabelle reacted when he first appeared. The girl was very astute, no doubt about it. She sensed something was off immediately and steered clear of him ever since. It was strange, Diarmuid decided. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him but this one ran down the hall and barricaded herself in a room for three days straight just to avoid him. It was intriguing and frustrating all at the same time.
His walk came to an abrupt halt when the light in Isabelle's room flickered off. Not once in the past three nights had she done that. He debated whether or not to investigate but stopped when the sound of a door creaking open caught his attention. Diarmuid slipped back into the shadow of a large tree and observed as Isabelle poked her head out the front door. She spent a good amount of time scanning the area. Looking for me, he realized with slight amusement. After giving the area a thorough once over (and twice and three times over) Isabelle stepped fully outside and quietly closed the door behind her, locking it. She thought about driving but dismissed the idea quickly when she imagined how much noise it would create. Instead, she set out on foot toward the Department of Evocation.
Lancer frowned as he watched her leave the compound. She clearly did not want to be anywhere near him but this was dangerous. Reckless even. He played with the idea of exposing himself and asking her to refrain from unchaperoned nighttime strolls but there was always the possibility that she would bolt. And possibly get injured in the process. Allowing a mildly frustrated sigh escape his lips, Diarmuid discreetly followed her. She maintained a quick pace and reached the Department of Evocation within fifteen minutes. Swiping her keycard, Isabelle stepped inside and climbed the nearest flight of stairs. Lancer swiftly followed and couldn't help but gape at the room he found himself in. He'd never seen so many books in his entire life! The library was like a maze with volumes and scrolls piled from floor to ceiling in every direction, the scent of old parchment and ink permeating the air.
He noted with interest that Isabelle knew exactly where she was going as she navigated between the stacks of books, not stopping until she reached a particularly tall bookshelf. What she wanted was apparently at the top and Diarmuid had to stifle a chuckle when she jumped to reach it and completely missed. She pursed her lips and scowled a bit before glancing around the library with a raised brow. Satisfied that she was alone, Isabelle uttered a quick incantation that sent the book sailing into her arms. She beamed at no one in particular before making her way back outside.
The walk home was decidedly slower. Isabelle had her nose buried in the new book and frankly Diarmuid was amazed she hadn't tripped or run into any light posts yet. He hoped they would make it home without incident but when he spotted a stumbling man approaching he was nearly certain that wasn't going to happen.
"Hey baby, what's a cute girl like you doing out so late?" Isabelle jumped when a hand suddenly grabbed her slender wrist. Her eyes shot up from the book and she wrenched her arm away on instinct, causing the man's grip to tighten. "Careful sweetheart," he slurred, smelling strongly of alcohol. "Walkin' around here lookin' that good is just asking for trouble, ya know."
"Let go, please." Her voice was firm and she attempted to wriggle herself free once more. The man seemed to ponder her words before suddenly backhanding her, hard. The pain was instant and made her eyes water as she hit the concrete below. Magic reflexively crackled to life around her, intending to strike the next person who touched her. She was surprised however when the sparking energy remained relatively still and a gentle set of hands hoisted her back up into a standing position.
"Milady, are you alright?" It's Lancer, Isabelle realized with a start. He was staring at her with worry clearly evident on his face; her assailant was crumpled on the ground behind him.
"You didn't kill him, did you?" She asked immediately, peering around the Heroic Spirit in alarm.
"No," he replied shortly. She breathed a quick sigh of relief before jerking backwards when she felt his hand on her cheek. Isabelle could feel the alluring fog setting in once again and she took several steps away from him, stopping only when her back hit a retaining wall. Lancer seemed a little surprised by her retreat but recovered quickly.
"Miss Archibald," he repeated, this time more gently, "are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Isabelle replied quickly, feeling thankful for the stinging pain in her face and the ache in her side. They served as great distractions from the powerful aura emanating from the Heroic Spirit standing before her. Lancer considered her for a moment. A bruise was already forming on her cheek making him want to turn around and skewer the man on the ground. She was shaking as well but Diarmuid couldn't help but feel this was more related to him, not the assailant. Gods this was frustrating. She clearly wanted to run from him but after that little stunt he wasn't about to let her out of his sight.
"Milady," he spoke again, taking a step forward and internally cringing when she flinched. "It is my sworn duty as a knight in the service of Lord Kayneth to assure your safety, even if I myself am part of the problem." His words immediately caught her attention. "I know the curse mark affects you," Lancer continued, "but there is a temporary way around it if you are willing to trust me." Isabelle stared at him quizzically for moment. Her head was throbbing and the love spot's aura was not making it better.
"Please, Miss Archibald-"
"Isabelle. You can call me Isabelle," she murmured softly.
"Miss Isabelle," Lancer corrected, taking another step forward and feeling encouraged when she did not recoil. "Will you permit me to take you home?" She paused for a moment to consider his proposal. Whether it was the curse mark or intuition Isabelle wasn't sure but trusting him seemed like an acceptable idea.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Just close your eyes and the curse mark's effects will weaken," Diarmuid explained. This made Isabelle rather nervous but she closed her eyes nonetheless. Lancer allowed her to remain standing like this for several moments before inquiring, "Is it bearable now?"
"Yes, it is," she replied with relief evident in her voice. "But I can't keep my eyes closed forever. How will I walk home?" He wanted to make some comment about how it wouldn't be much different from walking with her nose in a book but refrained.
"You don't need to walk," he stated before scooping her up in his arms. Isabelle let out a surprised squeak prompting Lancer to pause a bit in his actions. "Is this not acceptable?"
"No, this is fine," she answered quickly, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You just surprised me, that's all." Satisfied, Lancer began walking in the direction of the Archibald Mansion. They travelled in silence for several minutes before Isabelle spoke up again.
"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you," she apologized while keeping her eyes closed and her head down. Diarmuid could sense her embarrassment as she added, "I don't handle your love spot's effects very well."
"It's alright," he replied, keeping an even pace. "To be honest, you're the first woman to ever run away from me because of the mark. Usually it has the opposite effect."
"Sorry…"
"Don't be, I find it rather refreshing, Milady. However, it does make protecting you a little problematic."
"Hopefully not for too much longer," she responded causing Diarmuid to glance down at her briefly.
"That's what you needed this book for?"
Isabelle nodded in confirmation before suddenly asking, "Did you follow me all the way to the library?"
"Yes," he replied without skipping a beat. She grew silent for a moment making the Heroic Spirit tense a bit. Diarmuid wondered if perhaps he'd done something wrong but relaxed when she gently placed her head on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Lancer."
"Anytime, Milady. Anytime."
Once his ward was safely tucked away in her room, Lancer resumed his patrol of the Archibald estate trying to ignore the guilt eating away at him. Isabelle seemed to be alright, chipper even when the effects of his love spot were blunted but it did not change the fact that he allowed her to be attacked. It was his fault she was injured. His hesitance to reveal himself put her in a dangerous position. He should have intervened sooner.
I can't believe I allowed that man, a lowly mortal at that- not even a Heroic Spirit, to lay a hand on her. It's inexcusable. Anger and self-loathing boiled in the pit of his stomach, scorching through his veins as he walked.
Some knight I am... Can't even protect my own Master- Diarmuid abruptly stopped his thoughts, quite alarmed by the direction they were going. Isabelle was not his master. She wasn't even linked to him magically, or so Kayneth claimed. However, Lancer couldn't help but wonder about that. Unless he was imagining things, there was indeed an additional mana signature helping to maintain his physical form. The energy was faint but apparent nonetheless as it contrasted so greatly to the cold, demanding mana supplied by Lady Sola-Ui. This other signature was blissful and warm, like the gentle touch of a mid-summer breeze, and somehow Diarmuid just knew it belonged to Isabelle. It doesn't really matter. Lord Kayneth is my master and this is my chance to correct the mistakes of the past. I will not fail again.