Whee! You actually appreciate my characters! I feel so loved, cuz most my characters are all parts of my friends & me! I also feel guilty for being such a slow writer…
Cali- Yes, I do know about Inuyasha; he was a major obsession for me a little while ago. I called my friend Mihir, whom a certain character (guess who) was based off of (very closely, might I add), and he was a little…taken aback with your reference to Miroku. I found that very amusing. =D Btw, I've a few Inu fics up. Why don't you R&R? Wait…that didn't sound quite evil enough…R&R and I will give you cookies! If you don't I shall feed you to the llamas…! :D
DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration. The Ulseil brothers belong to moi. Pr-et-ty obvious if ya ask me.
CHAPTER SEVEN: A Visit
Gwidhe woke Kagael early the next day, balancing on the edge of his bed and poking her arm a couple of times until she pulled it back and sat up, the top of her head grazing the top of the storage space.
"Stay here," he told her. "I'm going to get breakfast."
Kagael ran her fingers through her hair and watched Gwidhe leave, locking the door after him. She put on the red tunic, belted it, and waited. After a while, she climbed down from her loft and walked over to Gwidhe's nightstand. The dog statuette was sitting there like it had been the night before. Kagael looked at it with wide eyes. It looked exactly liked her mother's, the same smooth green body, the same, slightly cocked head, the same pointed ears, and the same expectant pose.
Hand trembling a little, Kagael reached out and stroked its glossy head. It was a familiar gesture from when she was little; she'd done it to her mother's figurine many times before. She ran a finger along its smooth green snout. With each passing second she became more convinced that this was the same dog that had belonged to her mother. Kagael picked it up and held it before her face.
"Kibeth," she whispered. "Is that you; can you hear me?" It was silly to ask, Kagael knew. Even if—by some bizarre twist of fate—Gwidhe had come to possess the very same statuette, the spirit of Kibeth had long since entered Death.
Still holding the dog in her hand, Kagael moved over to sit on the lounge seat. She'd noticed that Gwidhe's sword was gone; he'd taken it with him when he left, not that he needed it at breakfast, but he certainly wasn't leaving it in the same room as an unattended Kagael.
Cupping the small dog in her palms, and not quite sure why she was doing it, Kagael closed her eyes and reached out for the Free Magic. Pretty soon the metallic stink that still unnerved her filled her nostrils. What to do now? She couldn't quite remember how she'd made the light to hurl at Daven the night before, and didn't know anything beyond reaching Free Magic. Slowly, she withdrew.
The door opened without warning in a whisper of moving marks. Gwidhe entered with a tray, and Mihir—whom Kagael was very glad to see—followed him with a tray in each arm. Gwidhe looked at Kagael on the couch with the statuette in her hands and his eyes narrowed.
"Could you put that back?" he said tersely.
Kagael mumbled an apology, returning the dog to his bedside table.
"Morning!" Mihir greeted her. "Did you sleep well?"
Kagael nodded, accepting a tray from him and thanking him. Mihir seated himself on the armrest of the lounge seat. Gwidhe dropped his rapier by his nightstand and sat cross-legged on his bed with his tray balanced on his lap. At first they ate in silence, then Mihir spoke.
"Gwidhe, have you started teaching Kagael yet?"
Gwidhe looked up. There were four slices of toast on his tray, wheat; plain, unbuttered, and he'd been playing around with arranging them. "Turns out she didn't even know how to get to Free Magic, much less wield it. She seems to have gotten the idea now." He promptly stuffed a corner of the toast into his mouth.
Kagael took the chance to ask Mihir, "Why am I learning Free Magic anyway? What does it have to do with why I'm here?"
Mihir was silent for a moment, swirling a gulp of milk around in his mouth. He swallowed. "Gwidhe's preparing you for something. He has to do it, too. It's something like a ritual, and you have to have profuse amounts of both Charter and Free Magic in you in order for it to be effective. There's going to be other people doing it, too."
He'd explained, but definitely not the whole thing. Kagael knew she had Free Magic in her blood from her father, who had once been possessed by Orannis the Destroyer. But what was this thing she had to do and why had they kidnapped her for it? She asked Mihir that.
Mihir took a long time swallowing his porridge. "Erm," he said finally, "it's rather complicated. The kidnapping was…regrettable but necessary."
"You're with Orkaire, right?"
Mihir blinked. "Did I say that?"
Gwidhe surprised them all by laughing. "The girl's not stupid, Mihir. How did you know, Kagael?"
Kagael fiddled with her spoon. "It first started nagging me when I heard you called to the Captain. Venyeiya is the surname of the Orkairen Royal family…"
Gwidhe snorted. Kagael looked up. "Continue," he prompted.
"And the jacket you wear," she resumed quickly, "I didn't quite remember where I'd seen the cut at first, but then I remembered it from a drawing of Orkairen military uniform from one of my schoolbooks.
"I wasn't completely sure until last night. I mean, I was thinking all along that if you were Wing Commander, you had to be Wing Commander of something. And then, last night, I could read your dogtag because your tunic was undone and I saw the word Orkaire. That's when I was sure."
Gwidhe nodded.
"Which," Kagael swallowed, not really wanting to say it. "Which means Orkaire did burn Navis, and…" her voice softened, "they said 'Ulseil' did it. That was you."
Gwidhe's face was indifferent. "You are correct."
Kagael's eyes widened. Now that her fears and doubts were confirmed, now… She didn't know what to think. "It was…! Why? Orkaire has my mother, too, don't you? And Aunt Sabriel. Why?"
Gwidhe finished his last piece of toast, brushed the crumbs off his fingers, and started on the porridge.
"I don't care what this ritual is," Kagael said, her voice shaking with anger, "I won't do it. I'm not touching Free Magic again; it's tainted!"
"It is tainted," Gwidhe said quite calmly. "Tainted by the Charter."
"What are you talking about?"
"The Charter's demise," Gwidhe said in that same calm voice, taking a sip of his juice. "The Charter's undoing, unweaving, and casting aside."
Kagael almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. "You can't destroy the Charter."
"No. But what we can do is unravel it and return it to the Free Magic from which it was made."
"I'm having no part in this. It's obscene!"
"You will if you want to live," Gwidhe continued, his cool voice taking on a menacing quality. "As the saying goes, 'Bravado won't feed you; stupidity will kill you'. In your place, I'd be thankful for the honor, and cooperate."
"This is really not a good topic to start off the day with," Mihir interrupted loudly. "Say, Gwidhe, did I mention that Odessa told me she wanted to see you before I left the capital?"
Gwidhe's cold eyes remained on Kagael's for a second longer before he turned to Mihir. His tone was now a casual one. "And I'm sure you let her know that with this assignment I probably won't have any time to see her until the end of the month."
"Actually, she said something about getting a position on Citadel with General Noegduch. If she has…"
Mihir's voice faded from Kagael's ears. She felt drowned by the enormity of the situation. Orkaire…had the power…to unravel…the Charter…? The very notion was mad, but Gwidhe sounded so damn serious. And what reason had he to joke about it. Mother, she thought weakly, Where are you? Are you all right? Oh, I need you, Mother. Father. Danny. Sam. Anyone. I can't face this alone; I can't because I'm too weak, too useless. I've caused you trouble all my life…But I've never needed you like now…Please.
Kagael didn't want to eat anymore, but she finished her porridge anyway. She was silent as Mihir gently removed the tray from her lap.
"Hey, are you all right?" he asked gently when her hands dropped away limply to her sides.
"Leave her alone; she'll come to her senses," Gwidhe's dispassionate voice let him know.
Mihir adjusted their trays with a slight rattle. "Well," he said, "I'm sure you'll…you'll see when it's all explained. Don't worry about your Mum and Aunt. We're making sure they're all right, just like we are you."
"They've been blocked from the Charter, too, haven't they?" Kagael said coldly. "And some unfeeling sorcerers are trying to force Free Magic out of them? That's not all right. That's far from all right. That's wrong!"
Kagael fell back against the back of the seat as Gwidhe struck her across the face. He didn't do it hard; it barely left a mark, but the shock was enough; Kagael had never been hit like that before. She lifted a hand and pressed it to her cheek, staring at the floor.
"Gwidhe," Mihir said. It was a sharp hiss through his teeth.
"I swear," Gwidhe said in his deadly quiet voice, "I've never met such an impossible brat. Grow up, Kagael Abhorsen. The world doesn't care if you feel safe—we're all here to serve a purpose, and that's for the greater good of the world. If you're to die doing it, then you can only accept your fate. My father had his fate sealed, and it was by your mother."
Kagael flinched.
"Personally, I think I'm a very merciful person." With that, Gwidhe walked over to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the hall.
Mihir followed him, still looking concerned.
"Don't leave the room," Gwidhe's voice said from the hall. Then the door closed.
Kagael blinked away tears. He had hit her. The hatred she'd had for him, which had been slowly seeping away, came back in a torrent.
---
"Lord Torrigan, your carriage has arrived."
Saying so, the servant in palace livery bowed and backed from the door. Touchstone stepped out of the room after him and was led out to the front of the palace. The elderly advisor Vogsako was there, standing beneath an ornate carriage drawn by two horses.
As Touchstone thanked the man who held the door open for him and took a seat, he could see that the old man was in bustling good spirits.
"How are you today, Lord Torrigan? Fine weather, don't you think?" Vogsako asked. The sky was white-gray and it was dreadfully chilly for August. "Always did like a good wind in from the sea."
Touchstone smiled and nodded.
Vogsako apologized smoothly for taking so much time to arrange the trip, his excuse being obstructions in the academy's schedule. "I hope you have been much looking forward to this. The academy is the pride of our nation."
"I thought," Touchstone said calculatedly, "that sorcery was not encouraged by the Venyeiyas?"
"True," Vogsako said. "But just between you and me, we know what are silly superstitions and what are facts, eh? This dislike towards magic was mostly in our late Emperor Cumaremus. Our dear departed Princess Yukiel was a Charter Mage, though she wasn't allowed to study. A pity, if you ask me."
"Yes, a pity."
"Your daughter is a mage? I cannot recall."
"Yes, Ellimere is. Her husband is not."
"Mm. I know very little of this magecraft myself—no mages in my family, you see." He tapped at his bare forehead. "My granddaughter Odessa wanted to learn Free Magic, but I had my son pack her off to the military, the persistent little thing."
"I would've done much the same," Touchstone couldn't help adding.
"I personally have nothing against Free Magic," Vogsako said seriously, "But I did not want my grandchild causing trouble. She's a fiery spirit, and I love to indulge her, but not at the cost of my position, you understand, my lord."
Touchstone nodded.
The carriage rolled to a stop and a footman came to open the door. Touchstone stepped out as the servant lent the elderly advisor a hand. Walking along the well-paved street, Touchstone found himself standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down and across at a campus whose size was nearly that of a good-sized town.
Vogsako came up next to him. "This way, Lord Torrigan," and led him over to a hovering platform.
They descended on the platform and stepped off onto the wide path laid with large, irregularly shaped gray stones, which wound to the administrations building and entrance hall.
The building was grand and built of stone. Beyond it one could see more levels to the main building, towers, and a domed observatory. To either side of the path they walked there was beautiful landscaping. On the left they had just passed a small arbor of trees with flaming crimson leaves that were reflected in the round, shiny pond beside it. An ornately carved stone bench stood cold and empty, a few fallen leaves drifting across the seat.
Touchstone noted this with some confusion; it was, after all, still summer. Then he detected some Free Magic in the air and frowned.
"A student," Vogsako said briskly. "They like experimenting, the young ones."
Touchstone nodded.
The main hall was like a museum, displaying the works and achievement of successful mages the academy had produced. Touchstone admired the creations and plaques with mild interest. He was actually here to assess just how formidable these Orkairen sorcerers were. So far, to the sound of Vogsako's enthusiastic droning, Touchstone thought that those who disapproved of magic here in Orkaire just did so thinking it a waste of time.
Roughly thirty minutes later, Vogsako energetically led Touchstone out of the administrations building and onward into the campus grounds. Walking, Touchstone could see that the academy was made up of four adjoined main buildings around a large central courtyard.
The first, front-most building consisted of the entrance hall, administrative offices, and the large dining hall, all of which they had passed. The building to the left, Vogsako explained, contained dormitories of those students who stayed most of the year at the school, returning to their rather distant homes every so often. On the second story were the suites belonging to the professors, researchers, and other distinguished permanent residents of the academy.
The building in the very back was where most of the classrooms were, including a large indoor salle for weapons training when the weather was extremely harsh. Vogsako explained that soldier mages who stayed here most of the time had demanded a gym of sorts, so it was a recent addition. They headed towards that building.
There was a steady stream of academy students and other residents moving through the hallways, going in and out of rooms, up and down the stairs, and entering and leaving the elevators that took them to the different levels of the structure. On the second story were the workplaces of the academy residents, laboratories, and a room for archives. The third story contained an observatory where a giant, unfinished telescope (for stargazing) was constantly being worked on.
The building to the right had numerous empty rooms, a large greenhouse, and the colossal chamber where Tests took place.
"Tests?" Touchstone inquired.
"Both of the student evaluating sort and also experiments," Vogsako inserted.
"I would like to see."
"Gladly."
Touchstone thought that the old man's enthusiasm was almost bubbly now.
Vogsako pushed open the doors and almost instantly they stepped upon another one of those ascending platforms. They stopped and stepped off onto a balcony with railing and nets woven full of protective Charter marks.
"A student is being tested," Vogsako said in a proud, gesturing for Touchstone to look forward.
A young man with shoulder-length black hair held back by a headband was being wearily circled by three Free Magic creatures. One was undeniably a Stilken, another was a Ferenk, and finally a Jerreq. The young man drew his bow and fired at the Ferenk with a small explosion of golden sparks. There was the smell of singed fur, and the beast gave an anguished cry and bowled forward. The young man loosed another Charter infused arrow, this one grazing the Ferenk's side. The Stilken wailed, seeing an opening, and charged. The young man rammed his bow back into his quiver and sprang elbow blades, locking both of the Stilken's razors against his. The creature pushed him back, snarling. The young man ducked, sweeping at its spindly legs. The Stilken fell, but managed to slice at the young man's calf.
It was brutal. Touchstone watched with a morbid fascination. How could they test their students against creatures that the Old Kingdom locked up in the Library of the Clayr?
It took well over twenty minutes, but the battle finally ended with the young man victorious, collapsed on arena floor, bleeding from a dozen wounds. The Jerreq had gone over to feast on the fallen Ferenk, and so had not given the young man much of a fight; he had cut down the Stilken and shot the Jerreq with every last arrow in his quiver until it exploded in a shower of liquid metal.
Two sendings and a tall man descended to the arena. The sendings retrieved the young man, sprawled, moaning on the ground. The man congratulated the young mage on his success, stating that he was only the third in fifty years to attempt this testing.
Only the third. This made Touchstone unreasonably relieved. His heart was beating fast from watching the battle and he was still catching his breath when Vogsako led him off the balcony and onto a platform that traveled horizontally through the air.
"You would like to see the experiments?" Vogsako asked.
Touchstone nodded. The experiments were largely boring, consisting of men sitting around large contraptions and devices of metal, mostly concentrating and making them float or emit odd puffs of vapor and light. Touchstone tried to be attentive, but soon grew bored.
Walking along starkly lit white hallways on their way back to the courtyard, Touchstone and Vogsako came upon the young man from the arena. He was sitting on a bench, propped against the wall, swathed in bandages over his legs and torso, his arm in a sling. He was very pale beneath his mop of jet hair, and did not look entirely awake at the minute.
"Tell you a secret…" he was mumbling at the ceiling, barely loud enough to be heard. "This…is what I've always wanted. I ran away from Estwael for this. I…wanted to be a hero…not a Prince. They said they'd make a legend of me…" The young man laughed weakly. "He says…I am ready now… …'You will make…a world…Elyras'…" The young man seemed to fall asleep.
Touchstone scowled. Elyras…the atheling of the Old Kingdom's western neighbor Estwael. Elyras, who had been missing since he was twelve? Touchstone started towards the boy, but Vogsako placed a restraining hand on his arm.
"They say tests can make one quite disoriented," Vogsako said smoothly. "The last boy who did this thought he was Hedge the Sorcerer—tried to burn down the whole building before the Battle Mages came and knocked him out. Don't take the boy seriously—you know he is not Prince Elyras; they found Elyras' body two years ago."
[Any ideas as to who 'the last boy' was? -winks-]
Touchstone nodded slowly and allowed himself to be led away, though the sense of foreboding never left his mind.
---
Kagael managed to go to sleep back on the loft, but it was a shallow sleep, and dreamless. She woke when she heard the door open, and froze. She could tell right away from the soft footfalls that it wasn't Gwidhe. Kagael tried to breathe as softly as possible. The footsteps were coming close. They paused.
Kagael gasped as someone peered up at her. It was, though she was hardly in the mood to admit it, the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. Large, pale purple eyes looked up questioningly from a serene face framed by long, pale blond hair. "Kagael, right?" the person asked. Kagael decided right away that she liked his voice, too.
"Please come down," he continued. "You can trust me."
"Why should I?" Kagael demanded, feeling bold. Other than the fact that you're devastatingly beautiful…
He smiled. Kagael felt lightheaded. "Well, I did have to key to Gwidhe's room," he said undauntedly.
Kagael scowled, though it was hard to scowl at someone with a face like that, looking at her with eyes like that. "Who are you?"
"Sidhegureth Ulseil, or more to the point, Gwidhe's elder brother and the Captain of this ship."
"You're…his brother?" Kagael was surprised, and that was an understatement.
"Hasn't he told you about me?"
"Well, no. He doesn't talk to me except to tell me what spoiled brat I am."
"That's too bad." Sidhegureth laughed, not unkindly, and reached up to help her down.
Kagael jumped down onto Gwidhe's bed, then onto the floor. The Captain was roughly a foot taller than her, and she had to tilt her head back in order to look him in the eye. Sidhegureth wore his elbow-length blond hair held back from his brow with a thin cord of braided blue. He wore a simple tunic of indigo and blue, open, and a long sword belted at his side. He was certainly good to look at and carried himself in a way that said he knew it, which, Kagael noted, was a quality he shared with his brother.
"What ought I to call you?" she asked.
He paused, then said, "Gureth's all right. My friends call me that."
Kagael wondered if she had some sort of disease. She couldn't recall ever blushing so much and so often.
"How's my brother been?" Sidhegureth asked.
He saved me last night and slapped me this morning. "Nice enough."
Sidhegureth's eyebrow quirked elegantly in an expression of gentlemanly concern. "He hasn't done anything—"
Kagael shook her head. "No! It's just…he's not the friendliest person I've met, if you know what I mean."
The Captain smiled. "I know what you mean. But you mustn't blame him."
Gwidhe chose this moment to burst in the unlocked door. His eyes were large and angry as he darted a quick glance toward Kagael, then glared vehemently at his brother. "Sidhegureth! What the hell are you doing in my room?"
Sidhegureth gestured towards Kagael, who stomped down the urge to back up a couple of steps. "Merely checking on the young lady. Really, there's no need to shout, little brother."
"Well, you don't barge into my room without permission!"
"Tsk, Gwidhe. As Captain of this ship I have access to all the rooms—"
"Don't pull rank with me, you—!"
"—and therefore I am granted to enter them whensoever I wish." Anyone other than Sidhegureth would have quailed at the look Gwidhe was shooting his way.
Gwidhe muttered something.
Sidhegureth merely nodded at him, coolly swept across the room, and left. "Kagael," he said at the door, "Your room has been cleaned, so you may return when you please."
Gwidhe turned as the door clicked shut to look at Kagael. "I don't know what you think of him, but don't compare me with my brother," he said in an unreadable tone.
"I think I've got a screaming crush on him," Kagael replied quite honestly.
"You—" Gwidhe started. "Go to your room!" he snapped, "and don't get seen."
Kagael edged past him meekly, and did as he said. He had told her not to compare him with Sidhegureth, but as she plopped down on her bed, she did just that. After all, how could one help but contrast Prince Charming with a violent jerk?
O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O
Author's Note: Poor Kagy -pets her on the head- she seems to have a weakness for pretty people. Not that I blame her—I do, too. =). And if you're wondering, "why couldn't Kagael have read Gwidhe's dogtags the other night in the Great Stickle Wood?" That's because it was too dark to see, remember? Much less read the tiny print…
Oh, and in case I haven't mentioned it yet—don't think I have—Touchstone is 61 in my fic. Sorry for the big bore, but the academy visit was somewhat necessary.
Next: Things will warm up in Chapter Eight- Ice. (Lot's of action. I stake my life upon it.) But whether or not you'll get it depends upon if I get…REVIEWS!