Author's note: Thank you all for your kind reviews, except you, Louisewanker, you're a lil cunt for telling me to take my story and shove it. I know, last chapter was a bit slow. Don't you worry though, peeps. The pace will pick up soon. I love to read your theories as to where the story is going, by the way, so feel free to keep making them known!
Also, my apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, work has been kicking my ass lately.
-:-
Red Legion camp, six miles from Cromwell's blacksite.
Siesta entered Ghathrax's enormous tent, her red dress fluttering behind her. She removed her high boots, then walked barefoot over the thick furs that had been laid on the ground, towards the brazier that constantly burned at the center of the yurt.
She spotted the imposing figure of the Berserker, sitting in the shadows with one of his axes laid in front of him. Then, Siesta realized that his helmet was off. Slightly illuminated by the flickering fire, Ghathrax's face appeared as chiseled and white as a marble statue's. The former maid gazed upon the astartes's features, fascinated by their perfection. He was not handsome. She would hesitate to call him something so… human. And then, the warrior lifted his head to look at her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.
His eyes were predatory. Silver irises, penetrating, calculating. The eyes of a killer. She saw them gaze up and down her body, and she could easily imagine the Space Marine coming up with a dozen ways to kill her with his bare hands, each of them more painful than the last.
Ghathrax spoke, and his voice sounded strange to Siesta, used as she was to him roaring his words through the loudspeakers of his enormous helmet, which now rested by his side:
"What is it, girl?" his voice was deep, thunderous, as the former maid imagined a god's must be.
"The s-scouts are back, Lord. They found it. They found the castle." Siesta said, her voice low and slightly shaky.
"Good." Ghathrax took his helmet, slid it on, and locked it in place with a hiss of pressurizing air. Then, he took his axe from the ground, and slung it over his back, letting it hang from the magnetic disk on the side of his power pack.
The chaos warrior barged out of the yurt, and into the camp. He threw his head back, and shouted, his voice unnaturally enhanced by the helmet's loudspeaker:
"Warriors! On the move!"
Several thousand men raised their weapons all over camp, and roared back in approval. Then, Ghathrax turned back towards the entrance of his tent, where Siesta patiently waited for instructions, her red silken dress slightly billowing in the cold morning breeze.
"You stay here with half the Legion, girl. I will assault the castle, find her, and get back before sundown." he thundered. And then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
-:-
The short journey from the camp to Cromwell's blacksite was quick and uneventful. Ghathrax walked in silence, his long strides forcing his warriors to follow at half trot, rather than march. Three thousand warriors marched with the enormous Berserker, clad in their furs and chainmail, and carrying all manner of weapons. Several carried long ladders, which they would use to scale the walls of the fortress.
The Space Marine closed his fists, tightly. He was angry. He was impatient. Three months on the trail, chasing, hunting. The investigation work had been pure torture to him. He was a warrior, not a tracker or a detective. But he would do anything to get Louise back. And he did, slowly rebuilding the tracks that Cromwell had left for him to find, re-creating the Albionese dictator's path. He delighted in the torments he would put the stupid mortal through. When he was done with Cromwell, the man would no longer resemble a human.
Suddenly, a scout appeared at the top of the small hill the warriors were climbing, ran over to Ghathrax, and knelt at his boots. The astartes raised a fist, and the column stopped dead in its tracks.
"Speak, mortal." the demigod growled.
"Lord Ghathrax, the castle is just over that hill. B-but…" the warrior stammered.
"But… what…?" Ghathrax asked, slowly, deliberately emphasizing the words.
"M-my lord… the castle is empty. There's nobody in it. Not for some time, it looks like. At least ten days, maybe more." the scout said, quickly.
The Berserker's savage howl resonated for miles.
-:-
When Ghathrax barged back into his yurt, Commander Mathews knew he was going to die. The Space Marine covered the few meters between the entrance and the cage that had been the Albionese senator's home for the past half a month, in long, thumping strides, and tore off the door. Then, he reached inside, and grabbed the screaming, kicking man by the scruff of his neck.
Mathews's screams grew louder when the enormous Chaos Lord threw him across the tent and against the burning brazier. The immensely heavy piece of furniture rang when the commander's back and head hit the red hot metal, burning his skin and clothes.
The man tried to crawl away, his vision hazy and blurred, but then Ghathrax was once more next to him. The Space Marine's armoured boot smashed Mathews's hand to pulp. A precise kick then shattered the humerus of the same arm, and Mathews's screams grew shrill. There was a kind of incredulous pitch to them, as if he couldn't believe this was happening to him, that this pain was so savagely coursing through his body.
The screams were cut short when the Berserker kicked him again, this time in the stomach. Mathews rolled over, his breath leaving him against his will. He could only gasp when the armoured boot smashed against his left side again, shattering his ribs like wooden sticks.
The Berserker was methodical and surgically brutal. A kick to Mathews's right shoulder cracked his clavicle. A punch to his face sent his teeth flying. Another dislodged his jaw, ripping the skin and leaving the bone exposed. A third made his left eye pop out with so much force, it tore clean off the optical nerve. Mathews tried to kick his way away from the Chaos Space Marine, but a boot crushed his left ankle. And then, a wave of nauseous, white-hot pain shot up his spine when the same boot snapped his right femur, leaving the man trembling and contorting silently like a dying insect.
He was still clawing at the furs with his remaining arm, when Ghathrax grabbed it by the wrist and tore it clean off the shoulder. Not a sound came out of Mathews's throat.
The senator was not yet dead though. He was still barely breathing, making a whistling sound every time air escaped the gaping hole from which one of his ruined ribs was poking out from his side.
Ghathrax then knelt next to Mathews's ruined body. The man's frantic eye looked into the inhuman demonic visage that was the Berserker's facial plate, the green glow of the warrior's eye lenses reflecting off of his smashed face.
"B-bleash-" he rasped.
"Do not. I abhor pleading." Ghathrax said, his voice a mechanical roar. Mathews went silent. "Better. Now… you said she was at the castle. You swore, on your life. Yet she is not at the castle. Which makes you either useless, or a liar."
Mathews's remaining eye watered.
"Ngh. Ngh." he tried to speak, but was unable to utter a word.
"Believe it or not, I am not completely without mercy, human. Tell me where he took her. Tell me where he feels safe from me, and I will ease these final seconds of your miserable existence." Ghathrax held Mathews's head within his massive armoured fist.
Mathews choked for a moment. He managed to avoid a coughing fit, but a trail of blood fell from the corner of his mouth.
"L-... L-... Londin-" he tried to speak.
Ghathrax's hand closed, and Mathews's head exploded wetly inside the armoured fist. Londinium. Cromwell, that cowardly rat, had escaped to Londinium with Louise. Which meant going back south.
A malicious voice whispered inside his head, however. What if she wasn't at Londinium? What if she'd disappeared again when he arrived? It didn't matter, he concluded. The city was the country's capital. He could hold it hostage, if he could take it. Even if Cromwell was gone again by the time he arrived, he could easily threaten to destroy everything the man had built until he returned Louise.
Ghathrax stood, shards of bone and bits of brain matter dripping off of his gauntlet, and left the tent.
"LIFT THE CAMP! WE MARCH IN AN HOUR!" he bellowed. The Legion started moving as if the Devil himself had given the order. Which, in a way, he had.
-:-
Catacombs of Londinium
Louise and Jack advanced through the maze of tunnels that was the catacomb complex under the city of Londinium. The two teenagers walked under the powerful magical light at the tip of the wand Jack had stolen from an Albionese officer back at Cromwell's castle, making their way through labyrinthic corridors that twisted and turned following an unpredictable pattern. Sometimes, to Louise, it felt that they all looked the same, just tunnel after tunnel with hundreds of graves dug into the walls.
Skeletons were laid to rest in the niches, covered in rags that had once been funeral sheets. The smell was overpowering. An almost sweet, almost itchy odour, of rot, decay, death. Louise's nose had been trained though. She'd lived for three months in a dirty, humid and rank dungeon, becoming intimately familiar with the stench of humans, her own and that of her large, sweaty torturers.
She pressed against Jack, feeling another anxiety attack starting to form in the darkest recesses of her subconscious. She fought against it, though. She couldn't succumb again. Not when she was so close to finding out who, what she was.
Trying to calm herself, she thought of her family. Would they be worried about her? Would they be searching? Maybe… after all, she was Louise the Zero, the screw-up daughter of the Valliére family who couldn't make even the simplest magic work. Her parents were ashamed of her, her sisters ignored her. Their memory wouldn't help.
She thought back to her Academy schoolmates. Would they wonder where she was? Doubtful. Half of them hated her, having been on the receiving end of many of her spectacular and explosive failures at controlling magic. And the other half bullied and ridiculed her. Kirche von Zerbst, that lurid whore, featured especially in her self-depricating thoughts, with that low, sultry voice that was so good at verbally demeaning her for her incapability to live up to the expectations of society.
She thought of her familiar. A huge red psychopath whose mind was only on killing things, especially people. A merciless warrior, who served the god who claimed her for himself, whose protection should have been enough to keep her from being taken, abused, tortured. And yet it hadn't been.
Finally, she thought of Henrietta, her childhood friend, her Queen. The only person she truly loved, and the only person who truly loved her back. That purple haired girl whose smile could heal all psychological wounds, and whose powerful water magic could heal all physical ones. God, how she missed her.
Louise held on to Henrietta's memory like she would to a lifesaving piece of driftwood in the middle of an ocean. The warm and soothing feeling of knowing she was still loved by at least one person in Halkeginia embraced her like a mother's arms. She felt herself calm down, her muscles relax, her breathing and heartbeat become regular once more.
At her side, Jack didn't seem to have noticed her small crisis. He was too concentrated on remembering the way through the catacombs. Fortunately, it seemed they weren't lost, at least for now. Jack remembered the path as if he'd walked it just hours ago, rather than years.
However, suddenly, the Albionese boy stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a long hallway. Louise looked up at him, letting go of his arm.
"Jack? What's the matter?" she asked.
"Quiet." he ordered. "Take this for me."
He handed her the wand, then used his now free hand to dig inside his coat for the pistol. He pulled the firearm out, and cocked it with a barely audible "click".
Louise used the wand to illuminate the hallway. The powerful magelight on the tip of the magical object pierced the darkness, revealing a path that was far older than any they'd yet come across. The stones were smooth, faded. Then, Louise realized what had made Jack stop so suddenly.
The niches around them were empty.
Louise swallowed, as Jack motioned for her to illuminate the floor. She did, and what she saw made a chill run down her spine:
The bones once held in the niches had been torn to pieces, bones shattered and the contents suckled, skulls split and eagerly licked clean. The desecrated cadavers covered the whole hallway up to a corner where it split into two paths, one continuing ahead, the other bending to the left.
"Ghouls." Jack whispered. "Stay close to me, and keep the wand up."
Louise did as ordered, and followed Jack as he slowly led them through the bone-covered floor, making sure not to step on any of the brittle remains. The girl pushed her pink hair out of her line of sight, the wand dancing in her trembling hand.
And then, she froze.
"Jack." she whispered. "Look. Right ahead."
"I see it." Jack answered.
Ten meters down the corridor, a dark shape had begun to form. It was hunched, on all fours, its eyes gleaming slightly in the light coming from the wand. Another shape appeared, and then a third, and a fourth. They were emerging from the niches. Louise anxiously looked behind, and saw that more shapes had begun to appear behind them, cutting them off. They were trapped!
Breathing hard, she gripped the wand with both hands, as the first of the creatures stepped into the light. It was hunchback, naked, completely hairless. Its flesh was a greyish white, and Louise could clearly see blue veins and pale muscles moving under the near translucent skin. The creature opened its mouth, revealing a set of needle-like teeth, drooling as it extended an impossibly large claw towards her…
KBAMMM!
The creature's face disappeared in a red mist. Louise's ears rang, the tremendous sound of Jack's gunshot reverberating through the tunnel. She was deaf! Jack shouted something at her, which she couldn't hear at all over the constant whistling in her ears.
The ghouls, equally stunned and deafened, fell back as Jack grabbed Louise by the hand and leapt towards them, running between the dazed creatures and avoiding them even as some tried to grab them with their long clawed fingers.
One of the ghouls managed to overcome the daze, and jumped towards Jack, mouth wide open and dripping foul saliva. The Albionese boy turned the pistol in his hand, grabbing it by the barrel and swinging it in an arc that made the solid wooden butt of the firearm smash against its jaw, sending it reeling back. A kick to the chest saw the ghoul fall to the floor, as Jack and Louise ran.
Starting to recover, the ghouls screeched and ran on all fours, pursuing the pair. Louise panicked when a claw grabbed her coat. She let go of Jack, and freed herself from the piece of clothing, her slight frame allowing her to slip out of it without effort. She then turned, still dressed in a grey woolen shirt of indeterminate origin and the blue pants of an Albionese sergeant she'd killed at Cromwell's castle, and aimed the wand at the beast, before shouting:
"Windy Icicles!"
Maybe this time it would work, she thought. She was wrong.
The explosion that emerged from the wand shook the entire tunnel, and while the solid stones didn't yield, half of the ghoul became permanent part of the catacomb's decoration, most of its upper body splattering all over the floor and walls in a red paste.
The rest of the creatures continued the pursuit, although several stopped to feast on the remains of their fallen comrade in a cannibalistic orgy of blood and guts.
"Louise, come on! We're almost there, just run!" Jack shouted, and pulled her behind him as they resumed their panicked flight. Louise let fly another explosion with the wand, although her intention had been to re-ignite the magelight, which blew several more ghouls to a fine red mist and only served to enrage the rest even more.
Jack and Louise turned around the corner, and saw that the way was blocked by a large double bladed door, made of pure black wood, with no decorations. They were trapped!
The boy cursed out loud, as he banged his fist against the door. Then, he turned and started reloading the pistol.
"Jack, they're coming!" Louise screamed, in a panic.
"Use your explosions, Louise! Don't let them close! We need to rout them or we'll both die here!" Jack replied.
"Goddamit!" Louise raged. She felt a small tickle of her old self, proud and aristocratic. How dared these creatures corner her in this foul smelling place? A dirty, mouldy tomb complex was no place for a noble to die! This was not her fate. She hadn't survived what she'd survived only to die in the darkness to a pack of feral ghouls, her noble flesh consumed to sate their hunger. It was unacceptable.
Jack finished reloading, and fired a shot with the pistol that resonated through the tunnels, punching a hole the size of a fist into the first creature that appeared around the corner. Then, he turned his head to see Louise holding the wand with both hands, her eyes full of tears.
"I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Valliére. I am a noble. I am the daughter of a Duke. I am a Void Mage, of the Blood of Brimir! AND I AM NOT AFRAID! EXPLOSION!" she roared. Her eyes flashed red, and she let loose her power.
The explosion that followed was, compared to Louise's usual detonations, like comparing a sneeze to a hurricane. The massive blast knocked the two teenagers to the floor. The walls and ceiling cracked. A wave of dust fell from above. By the time their vision finally cleared, and their ears stopped ringing and buzzing, the ghouls were gone. Atomized by the tremendous shockwave, even their constituent molecules had broken down and decayed in the span of a microsecond.
Jack stumbled back to his feet, and offered Louise his remaining hand. He'd lost the pistol, but that was alright. He had no ammunition left for it anyways. Louise took Jack's offered support, and used it to get back on her feet. She stared at the destruction she'd wrought, amazed. She felt so immensely powerful! A warm hum coursed through her body, liquid pleasure rushing through her veins.
It felt good. It felt right. Using magic just then hadn't been outside of her control. The explosion hadn't been a result of failing to use her power… it was her power. And killing with it had made her feel… strong. Invincible. She could do anything. Without really realizing what she was doing, she ran her hands over her body. Hips, sides, breasts, neck. Holy Founder, she felt so good! Was this normal? Was it expected that she should feel like the world should kneel before her, and worship her as she deserved?
"Louise?" Jack asked, hesitantly.
His voice broke the fascination her own power had brought on.
"Yes?" she asked in turn, returning to the real world. The tingling pleasure became background noise, and faded away. The power became dormant again. "S-sorry. I got lost in the moment there."
"Let's go… and pray there were no patrols underground to hear this ruckus. We aren't out of the proverbial woods yet." Jack answered, softly. "We need to find a way to get in. I don't understand why this door is here all of a sudden. It wasn't here when I saw this place for the first time."
"It's been a decade since then, Jack. Maybe it was added after. Maybe someone found the room, and had it installed to stop others from going in." Louise answered, approaching the door and running her fingers over the smooth dark wood.
"Could be." Jack answered. "Can I have the wand, please?"
Louise looked down at her right hand, which still held the magical instrument. She extended her hand to give it to Jack… and she hesitated. Was she really about to give up the means to utilize her strength?
"Louise?" Jack asked, extending his own hand, palm open and facing upwards. "The wand, please? I need to open this door."
Louise finally opened her hand, letting the long, smooth stick fall into Jack's. The soft, warm and pleasurable hum of magical power vanished, and she felt the same way a de-hydrated man would, were he to be removed from a fresh pool of water.
Jack shot the girl a concerned look, but then turned back to the door.
"Let's hope no magical wards have been added… that might take a while for us to bypass." he said, in a low tone.
"Just be careful. We don't want to damage whatever is inside that room." Louise answered, taking a small step back and looking over her shoulder to the darkness of the corridor.
"You already know what is inside. I told you once. But you're right. I'll be as careful as I can. I promise." Jack replied. Then, he aimed the wand at the door, and started a short, melodious chant.
The door opened with a barely audible click, and screeched as it slowly opened, revealing a large room, maybe four meters long and six meters wide, covered in spotless white tiles and illuminated by an enormous chandelier on the ceiling. The room was empty, save for an altar set against the farthest wall. On the altar sat a large painting, whose details Louise couldn't make out from the entrance. She could also see several other objects laid out on top of the enormous stone slab: a long, thin sword, a book and a small round mirror.
The girl walked in, a strange feeling of déja-vu coursing through her body, even though she knew she'd never been here before.
"It hasn't aged a day…" Jack whispered, behind her, as he followed her inside.
But Louise was no longer listening to him. Her eyes were fixed on the painting. She approached it, slowly, and examined it.
The painting depicted a battle scene, too realistic to have been a mere fantasy. Two armies faced each other on a rocky plain, massacring each other on top of a carpet made of corpses. One of the armies was human, soldiers wearing archaic pre-Founding armour, carrying short swords, javelins and large rectangular shields. Their opponents were decidedly elves. They wore their intricate and elaborate armour designs, with turbans and expensively decorated silks, favouring light cavalry and horse archers, as well as their fearsome mages, which could use the "Counter" spell, a form of magic that dispelled any magical attacks and stopped physical ones, in extreme cases even reflecting them back to the attacker.
But what caught Louise's attention was the group of figures that led the human army: four of them surrounded a fifth, wearing armour and colorful robes, and matching sets of glowing runes adorned their bodies. Gandalfr, the Left Hand of God, before she became the double familiar, a strikingly beautiful elven warrior who wielded a long, single-edged sword. Windalfr, the Right Hand of God, who was mounted on an enormous white dragon. Myoznitnirn, the Mind of God, whose hands wielded many magical objects at once, massacring enemies left and right with bursts of magic and power. And behind them all, there was Lyfbrasir, the Heart of God, a second beautiful elven maiden, her breast exposed behind a transparent white tunic, glowing runes shining through.
And then there was the fifth figure, which could be none other than Brimir, the Founder Himself, God of Halkeginia. He was usually depicted as a mage, with a simple tunic, which enhanced His humility, standing behind Gandalfr, the divine familiar that protected Him as he casted powerful Void magic. The First and Last of the Elements, the birth of all magic in the world.
However, in this painting, the Founder was depicted as a warrior. He wore a set of golden armour, stained red with the blood of the fallen elves at his feet. His head was surrounded by a golden halo, and his face, which was never depicted as it was heretical to do so, was clearly visible. He was a simple young man, with blonde short hair, smooth features, and beardless.
Brimir, as a mage, was never represented while holding a weapon. At most, he held a wand, or a staff. But in this painting, his hand gripped a long, thin sword, which glowed red as flames emerged from its length. And he had wings. Enormous, black-feathered wings, which sprouted from the middle of his back, and elevated him over the carnage so that his feet never touched the dead beneath him.
"That's… that's not right. The painting. When I saw it, Brimir was holding an axe." Jack said, over Louise's right shoulder. "Or maybe I remember it wrong. God, it feels like a lifetime ago. Do you think someone managed to-" he cut himself off abruptly.
Louise felt a jolt of power behind her, and she turned quickly, to see Jack with his head thrown back, and his spine bent backwards. His mouth was open in a silent scream. Then, he resumed an upright position, and Louise saw that his remaining eye was white. Not rolled up, or foggy, or clouded, but pure white. As if he had no iris, or pupil. When he spoke, Louise could not stay on her feet. She fell to her knees, compelled by the sheer, unbridled power that emanated from the boy.
"Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Valliére." he said, in a raspy, deep, inhuman voice.
"Y-yes. I'm here." she said, feeling the power seep into her from everywhere at once. The ecstasy she felt almost blinded her, when her god spoke. The absolute violence that voice promised just by existing was intoxicating.
"You came, as I ordered. This pleases me. Your journey was not easy, and you had to kill to reach your destination. Those deaths were an excellent sacrifice."
"Th-thank you." Louise said, simply. She didn't know what to say. Before now, her mind had raced with questions and possible answers, many of which scared her more than ignorance. But at this moment, kneeling in full sight of the divine being that had claimed her for itself, she was incapable of finding the right words to ask anything. And so, she just waited.
"You show promise, my Chosen. You will serve me well yet."
Louise swallowed. Being on her knees felt… good. But then she remembered: she was no commoner. She was the daughter of a Duke. She knelt to her Queen, and to no one else. Even a god. Struggling with her own instincts, she slowly stood back on her feet, facing the being that had taken control of Jack.
"You promised… you promised answers." she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"And you shall have them. You shall have all that I promised, and more. Service will always have its reward, Louise Françoise, my Void Berserker. Remember this."
Louise nodded slightly.
"Tell me, then. Tell me what I am. Who I am. What is expected of me. I've lived… all my life… believing I was useless. A failure. An embarrassment to my family."
"You are a Void Mage. The first of your kind since Brimir, he who you call your God, appeared on this world. There's others like you. Three more. But none as powerful as you. You are blessed, by him, and by me. This world, girl, was promised to my greatest servant, the first Void Berserker, called Brimir. He devotes his entire existence to fight and kill in my name as a daemon prince, and in exchange, I dedicate this… tiny sliver of my attention to keeping this world "safe" from the machinations of my fellow gods. Especially my treacherous brother Tzeentch, who wishes for all magic to fall under his domain. I personally consider magic to be abominable and a waste of good warriors. But keeping this world from my brother… it amuses me."
"Tzeentch… I have heard this name. Ghathrax spoke of him once. But if you hate magic… why not let him have us? Why didn't you refuse to keep this world, so full of power, full of mages, safe? Shouldn't you be the one obsessed with our destruction?" Louise asked.
"I always keep my word, Void Berserker. My deal with Brimir was eternal servitude, in exchange for this world to go untouched by the rest of my brothers. And that means I require agents in it. Namely you, and your familiar. My treacherous siblings will try to subvert my work, and yours, by extension, however. You will face many horrors throughout your lifetime, Void Berserker. You will have my assistance… if I judge you worthy of it. That is the first lesson I have for you. I will offer you my blessings, which are countless, but only if you are devoted to me, and to your duty. The world will line up to worship you, but only because I decree it. Never forget that."
"I see." Louise said. "And what will I have to do? Will I have to sacrifice my life, my personality, my loyalties… for you? Is this all that I am now? A weapon to be wielded?"
"You are a weapon… but so much more. For now, however, I will allow you to pursue your own goals. A taste of what I can offer you, if you will. I sense that you wish to help this… queen, of yours. You wish to fight for her. Do so. Kill in her name, and you will kill in mine. I care not whose blood is spilt, as long as it flows. Win or lose this war for your people. I care not. But remember that I will call on you eventually. And you will serve."
"You're… just letting me go? Just like that? Do you truly have nothing for me to do?" Louise asked, incredulously. She couldn't believe she'd made this voyage to Londinium only to learn what she already knew. She was a slave to a god of violence and bloodshed.
"Not yet, Void Berserker. For now, pursue your own goals. Your Queen marches north as we speak. And your familiar marches south with thirty thousand warriors. Fight, kill, prove to me that you are my Chosen. Prove it to the world."
"I… but I don't know what to do. I'm not a warrior. I'm not a… a killer." Louise whispered.
"You know in your heart, Void Berserker, that you are one. And you will have plenty of opportunity to prove it to yourself. Now… farewell, girl. We will not speak again. Not for some time. And when the time comes to serve me… you will know."
"Wait!" Louise exclaimed, and took a step forward. But Jack had already slumped forward, hitting the ground with a loud thump. Louise rushed to help him, and saw that his eye was normal again. The steady hum of power had stopped. Jack groaned, and grabbed a hold of her shoulder to prop himself up, and then she felt the pain.
"L-Louise? What just happened…?"
It was a blinding flash of red hot suffering, focused just below her shoulderblades, twin stars of pure ache, as if someone was stabbing her in the back over and over. Louise screamed, hunching over and grabbing Jack really tight. The pain was over in only half a second, but it left her drained and exhausted. She fell forward, leaning against Jack.
"Louise! What's wrong!?" Jack surged forward to grab the girl by the shoulders and hold her upright.
"N-nothing. It just… it hurt real bad for a moment there. I'm fine. Do you remember anything at all of what just happened?" Louise rasped out, her back still aching, albeit at a far lower level than before.
"I don't know what happened. I was talking to you, and suddenly, I was on the floor, and you were screaming." the boy said. He started to stand up, pulling Louise to her feet as well, the two teens taking some time to catch their breath as they leaned against each other.
Then, suddenly, Jack whispered:
"What the hell…? Louise, look." he separated himself from the pinkette, and pointed over her shoulder.
Louise turned, and saw a glow coming from the altar. It was bright, and flickering, the deep orange colour of a strong flame. She squinted her eyes, lifting a hand to shield them from the brightness.
"The sword… it's on fire! What in the name of Brimir…?" Jack muttered, eyes wide open and taking in the sight.
The sword on the altar was indeed flaming, the air around its thin, stylized blade glimmering with pure heat. Louise stared at it, dumbfoundedly, and approached the weapon. She felt an urge to touch it, to pick it up. She extended her hand to grab the handle…
"Louise, stop! What are you doing!? Are you crazy!?" Jack grabbed her by the shoulder, holding her back.
"Jack… trust me. It won't hurt me. I… I don't know how I know. I just do. This sword… this sword is mine." she said, with a certainty she had no idea where it came from. Then, she moved to take the weapon again, despite Jack's warning. Her fingers closed around the hilt, and she lifted it.
The sword was light as a feather. It felt perfectly balanced, the intricately decorated hilt and cross-shaped handguard molding to her hand as if it'd been made specifically to be held by her. The flames started to die down, falling back into the blade, which now glowed bright orange. Louise felt a rush of heat and power course through her body.
She turned, and the sword followed her movement fluidly, whistling faintly. Jack took a few steps back, not keen to approach the bright orange blade.
Louise used her left hand to move her long pink tresses away from her face, as she held the sword with her right. She thought back to her father's fencing lessons, and was grateful that he'd insisted so much on teaching her and her sisters to use a sword, even though at the time, she'd never understood why a noble, a mage, needed to learn something as boorish and typical of commoners as physical combat. After all, that's what soldiers and bodyguards were for.
The girl flourished the weapon, making the blade turn 360 degrees, and the blade sang. It whistled through the air effortlessly, making a soft wailing sound.
"It- it weighs like nothing…" Louise whispered, amazedly.
"It's not a knight's weapon." Jack said, as he studied it. "It's sharp, unlike a sword wand, and yet it looks unsuitable for battle. As if it could bend or break at any moment, it's so thin."
Louise reverently set the sword against the altar, then looked over the other objects laid on it.
The book was first. She took it in her hands, her fingers softly running over the smooth leather covers. She then opened it, and saw that it was completely blank. Her heart jumped. It couldn't be. Her mind raced as she flipped through the creamy white pages, thinking back to the history lesson Professor Colbert had once taught on the Treasures of the Founder. The Mirror, the Censer, the Music Box and… the Prayer Book.
But it couldn't be. The Prayer Book was as far as anyone who was someone in the Tristainian nobility knew, sealed in the most secure vaults of the Tristain Academy of Magic. This could not be it. And the mirror lying on the altar… it could not be Brimir's own Reflecting Mirror, one of the most sacred relics hidden deep in the basements of the Papal Palace in Romalia.
And yet, Louise could feel them vibrate gently at her contact. They sensed her, sensed her power, her ancestry. Power flowed from them gently, like streams of freshwater.
"Do you think they are…?" Jack whispered.
"Yes. Relics. The Treasures of the Founder. I don't know why, or how, they are here, but they are authentic. I can feel their power." Louise answered, her voice low and reverent.
"Someone has been here, since I was last in this place. Back then, only the painting was here, and it was… different. It wasn't this one." Jack muttered.
"Someone has been stealing these from the Halkeginian nations. Placing them here… perhaps to keep them safe behind the ghouls, the door, somewhere nobody would think to look. Except you. You are the one variable nobody thought about." Louise said, turning to Jack.
Jack observed her with his single eye, head tilting slightly.
"So what do we do with them? Nobody knows how they're even used, anyways." he said, absentmindedly rubbing his stump with his left hand.
"Legend has it, they can only be used by putting them in contact with the Rings of the Elements. The Water Stone, belonging to Tristain. The Wind Stone, belonging to Albion. The Earth Stone, belonging to Germania. And the Fire Stone, belonging to Romalia. But the rings must be worn by a Void mage to work at all… and there's not been one in six thousand years." Louise replied, running the tips of her fingers over the soft leather of the Prayer Book.
"Then, we must take them. Smuggle them and ourselves out of the city, and find the Queen's army." Jack said.
"We can't." Louise answered, shaking her head. "Security is too tight. You've already seen it, Jack. They'd catch us. Our best bet is to wait. If the Queen doesn't arrive soon, my familiar will. I-"
She paused. She couldn't tell him about her conversation with the Chaos God. Couldn't tell him the real reason she knew her familiar was marching towards Londinium with an army.
"Your familiar? How do you know?" Jack asked, incredulously.
"He's… it's a Void thing. The range at which I can feel him is much higher. He's coming. He'll get us out." Louise haltingly said. "His army can create enough chaos that we'll be able to slip out. Then, when the Queen arrives, we can use her and Prince Wales's Rings to activate the Treasures."
Jack nodded, slowly.
"Very well. We should return to the inn, then. We'll carry the Book and the Mirror in our pockets, and use my cape to wrap the sword up. I just hope it won't catch fire all of a sudden."
-:-
Some time later…
When Louise and Jack returned to the inn, having slipped out of the catacombs through an unguarded sewer mouth, the sky was already dark. They'd spent a full day below ground, and yet it'd felt like mere hours.
The inn was more crowded than usual when they entered it. They got some strange looks from the patrons, most of which were simply hanging out and talking in hushed tones, ale and food being conspicuously absent. Neither of them saw the hooded man observing them from the shadows of a barely lit corner, as they walked up the stairs to their room, Louise carrying the wrapped up sword in her arms, the weapon tightly bound by Jack's brown cape.
Louise fell on the bed face first, sighing in relief that she could finally relax once more. However, almost immediately, the thrill of the discovery, of her newfound power, of knowing that she wasn't really a magic-less screw-up, invaded her again. She was a Void mage! For all his lies, Wardes had been right about that.
She thought back to the castle, however, and shivered. The memory of what she'd done was flimsy at best. Mostly, unconnected flashes of rage, pain, blood and violence. The sticky splashing of blood under her bare feet. The raging, fiery pleasure between her thighs when she tore a soldier apart with barely a thought. The grinding of broken bone under her hands when she telekinetically crushed another one's neck.
Jack sat down on the couch, observing Louise. Her eyes were closed, and it seemed she wasn't having nightmares. Not yet, at least. Then, suddenly, as his eyes roamed her small, curled up form, he felt a chill run down his spine. Like a satisfied predator, Louise was smiling in her sleep.
-:-
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