Chapter Twenty-Six: Mages Join the Sides
As the sun set over the mountains of Arendelle, the Legions of Loki (as some of them had been calling themselves) waited with varying degrees of patience for their master's return. As word had spread of the impending Cataclysm, many creatures had chosen to fight with the Legion to earn a piece of the world that would follow. Their numbers had swelled in the past two days, forming an army that would shake the ground.
Finally, as the sun touched the mountains, a tiny speck could be seen in the sky, one that grew to reveal Hans's falcon shape. The raptor descended and landed before Shifting back to himself, cruel sneer and all. Clutched in the prince's fist was a length of black-and-gold cloth, the lingering enchantment on it keeping it pristine even after five years.
On cue, the leader of Loki's coven approached and took the cloth that she now recognized as a hooded cape. She examined it closely, her eyes faintly glowing as she Saw the faint glimmer of a Preservation on the cloth. She had to admit, whoever had wrought this enchantment knew what they were doing.
"Are you done admiring that?" Hans asked dryly, "or can we move along?" The vala eyed Hans sharply before shrugging and placing the folded cloak on the ground. She backed up to return to her sisters and lifted her arms, hands facing outward. As one, three of the vala began softly chanting.
As the sun finally sank below the horizon, mist rose and pooled around the cloak. Dust rose from the ground, lifting the garment and forming into a humanoid shape. The dust writhed and reformed, eventually settling on a feminine figure. Mist swirled around the shape and settled into an illusion of grey flesh, hair and cloth. And a pair of steel-grey eyes lidded with arrogance.
Before the Legion stood the spirit of a legend among the dark-vala, a witch that had lived for centuries. Before them stood the ghost of Mother Gothel. The ghost, held together by dark magic and dust, anchored by the cloak that held traces of her magic, turned to face the coven of dark-vala.
"Who dares summon me?!" she demanded.
"Me," Loki said cheerily, grinning widely. Gothel turned to face him, eyes widening as she Saw him with dead eyes. She saw two minds inside him, knotted together like thorny bushes. Had she been alive, she would have paled with fear.
"Loki," she greeted, "what can I do for you?" Loki smiled a approached, tuning out the continued chants of his coven.
"I think the question that is just as important is 'what can I do for you'? In this new land, I can bring you back from-" he gestured to her fragile state "-this." Gothel's eyes widened even further. Surely he couldn't mean-? "Well," he thought over his words, "mostly."
"Explain," Gothel demanded, the ambition in her eyes trumping deference to the mad Residuum. Loki hid a smirk; people like this, blinded by ambition, greed, or hate, were so easy to manipulate. He thought of Hati and the rest of his Legion before moving on.
"My dear daughter was killed during the End. And even now her Residuum has not manifested." Loki seemed solemn for a moment before grinning deviously. "That means the rules of such things are … fluid. I and my coven can bind your soul to a body and return you to some sort of life."
"A life as a rotting corpse," she commented dryly. "I think I'd rather return to the dark place you pulled me from. At least there it was peaceful." Loki's eyebrow shot up at the description. It seemed Hel's domain, her realm for the dead, was still standing. How interesting.
"You don't know the old stories, do you?" Loki asked. "Haven't you ever heard of the einherjar?" Loki vividly remembered the day Odin had first watched a human battle, listened well as he sent his valkyries out to collect the souls of dead warriors to serve in his army of Valhalla. And most importantly, he had figured out how Odin had given them new bodies.
Gothel narrowed her eyes in mistrust. "And what, exactly, would I have to do for you in return. I highly doubt you would do this for free." Loki's malicious grin only widened.
"Fight for me on the field of Ragnarok," he urged. Gothel's eyes widened in surprise. "You have magic; my coven can make it better. Fight with me and you will earn your freedom." Bringing her back like this would carve a debt on her soul; if she fought, she'd be free. "And as an added incentive …" Loki snapped his fingers, forming an illusion of Eugene. Gothel's eyes widened in outrage at the sight of him, real or no. "... I will let you have the thief." Loki would relish the sight of Gothel destroying the son of his enemy.
Gothel's eye had barely twitched before she made up her mind with a sinister smile. "With pleasure, Loki."
Anna stood straighter as she sensed the approach of fellow magic users. She felt no fear - she still couldn't say why, she just didn't. Anna held tightly to Kristoff's hand as anticipation grew. A quick glance at Rapunzel showed she was just as excited; Viola seemed tense.
Finally, in perfect sync, the scarred men strode into view to approach the gates of Arendelle Castle. They were just as she had Dreamed: all with scarred faces and violet-tinted eyes. All dressed in leather and carrying knives and swords. And all with the most intense expressions she had ever seen.
As they drew close, a piercing cry cut the air, heralding Elsa's arrival. Her ice-hawk settled and let its passengers off before bowing its head to Elsa and dissolving into snowflakes. Anna carefully watched the scarred men's reactions and was surprised to find them completely unsurprised.
Elsa, her cool queenly facade in place, took centerplace among the group. Given that Anna seemed to have been waiting for them, she assumed they were not hostile. "I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle. What business have you in my kingdom?"
The apparent leader, a with more silver in his hair than brown, strode forward and placed the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other, then bowed his head. "I am Gjeter, Elder of the Avvisade," he intoned. The Rejected? she wondered.
"Rejected of what?" Anna asked in her characteristic bluntness.
"Of the Maras," Alphonse growled, drawing surprised looks from the group. At the sound of the she-wolves title, the men before them growled like dogs. Gjeter made a sound suspiciously like a bark, silencing them like a knife. Gjeter returned his attention to Elsa, sensing that she was the unofficial leader of the group.
"Perhaps we should talk inside," she suggested.
On the tip of Han's island, the prince himself stood up to his knees in the sea, under the light of the waning moon. After recruiting Gothel and leaving her with the coven for her "procedure", Hans had come here to collect some of the final pieces of his Legion. That had been hours ago, but the payoff was more than worth the wait.
Hans smiled, almost warmly, as the water shifted to allow for a massive serpent. Summoned by his mental call, the final Kjempeslange had arrived.
After realizing that his in-essence grandchildren had been hatched, Hans had visited a norn, a small time seeress, to discover where they were. She had told him what she knew.
Though four had been hatched, Modi and Magni had avenged their father Thor on one of them, using Mjolnir to smite the creature in a battle that had shaken the continent and shattered the shoreline. The norn had gone on to say that that very sight had been settled by a family who had never lost their thrill for the sea; the heir to that kingdom had even married a mermaid.
The second had been killed some fourteen-hundred years ago by a powerful sorcerer. What was his name, Myrddin? No, some kind of bird … oh yes, Merlin. An image of a thin wizard with a long beard dressed in blue robes and a ridiculous pointed hat flashed through his mind. The norn had also shown him an image of a pair of ravens sitting on Merlin's shoulders. Seemed Hugin and Munin had been training sorcerers even before Odin's Residuum.
The third he had sent to Arendelle; he knew its fate. Though it hadn't died in the fjord, the wounds from Elsa and Alphonse had taken their toll. The creature had been in agony, blinded and broken. It had cracked Hans's shriveled heart just a little bit to put the creature out of its misery.
And now the last was here, resting in the seas. Hans smiled and placed his hand on the creature's nose, relishing in the bloodlust he could feel bubbling beneath its skin. One more day - one more! - and it would be free to unleash that wrath upon the Snow Queen and her allies.
Hans actually laughed at the thought.
When everyone (including the fifty-four rough warriors) were settled in one of the castle's largest audience chambers, Elsa still couldn't bring herself to relax on her throne. A small army appears on her doorstep a mere day before one of the most climactic battles in recent history? It seemed suspicious, like something Hans might do to make her lower her guard.
A hand on her shoulder drew her attention to Alphonse standing at her left side. His steady gaze helped assure her. Not to mention Anna had vouched for them, and apparently Freya had as well through her. Casting her gaze to the rest of her allies, Rapunzel and Eugene seemed content to let the matter unfold. Kristoff seemed calm, but his grip on Beskytter showed he was wary, as well. And Viola seemed outright nervous, running her hands through her hair and straightening her dress, tapping her bare feet and hugging her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, Elsa drew some satisfaction from the huldra's nervousness.
After some time disarming themselves and passing the weapons onto a small group of guardsmen for safekeeping, the "Avvisade" all sat on their knees in perfect unison, except for their Leader, Gjeter. The grizzled man with facial scars that ran perfectly parallel from his hairline to his chin, as well as three smaller ones from his lower lip to his chin, stayed standing to speak for his men.
"I suppose we should start with the most obvious question," Elsa began. "Why are you here?"
"We are here to serve against the Trickster," he said simply in his rough voice. Elsa got the impression that these men, whoever they were, didn't speak very often. A soft touch at her shoulder drew her attention back to Alphonse.
"He's telling the truth," the mage whispered, holding up a necklace of polished stones wrapped around his hand, just as he had before the Serpent had attacked. The beads were not glowing, so he was telling the truth.
"Why do you call yourselves the 'Avvisade'?" Rapunzel asked. This caused a stir among the scarred men, though one that only lasted a moment. Gjeter swallowed thickly as his face visibly hardened.
"It is not something we like to speak of, Highness," he answered, "but given these trying times I see no way around it." Gjeter turned and gestured to another of his men, who stood and strode forward.
This man was wiry and pale compared to his fellow Avvisade, his hair hanging loose instead of tied in a tight tail. His face was scarred horizontally, in stark contrast to the others' vertical or diagonal slashes. The man made their sign and bowed his head before addressing them.
"Raynor, Scribe of the Hamlet," he intoned before beginning. "We are call each other 'the clan', for that is what we have chosen to be. But within the Ashlands, we are called by our other name, the Rejected. For that, highnesses, is what we are born as. We are rejected by those who brought us into this world. By the …" the scribe's expression twisted into hatred for a moment, "the Maras."
"What do they reject you from?" Anna asked. "Why would they do that," she gestured at his scars, all of their scars, "to you?"
"They do this," he gestured at his face, "because we are not what they want. They want girls, and we …" he paused and swallowed thickly, "we are born as what they despise."
Everyone, save Alphonse, gasped at the implications of those words; even simply growled deep in his throat in suppressed anger. As soon as they arrived, he had suspicions; when they announced their title, he knew for sure. These were the fabled Sons of the Maras.
"When a girl is born to a Maras, she is born into what they are. They feel no pain from the birth, and their packs continue to grow. But when a boy is born," he gestured to the men behind him, "we are cursed. The mothers mark us and leave us to die. And even if we are found, we are set apart." Raynor lifted his hands palms-up, his gaze intense. Anna shivered as she felt the currents of magic stir. The swords and daggers that the guardsmen had confiscated rose from their positions and gently whirled, looping with a rhythmic metallic swinging sound. As Raynor relaxed and they fell back into place.
"All of us are born with magic, echoes of the power that resides within our mothers." Elsa couldn't help but begin considering exactly what fifty-four magic users could do during the upcoming battle.
"What do you expect to earn from this act of service?" Elsa asked. One of her father's lessons, one of his least favorites, had been that few people would fight for nothing. Most desired something in return, be it money, land, or lodging. What could these wild mystics want?
"Peace," Gjeter intoned, standing again to replace the Scribe. "Those of our kind have learned to keep our heads down, lest our secrets be discovered and mobs of mundane men gather to destroy us. But the threat of Loki is far too great for us to ignore. Just as our vile predecessors fight for him, we will fight tooth and nail against him." Without audible signal, all of the Avvisade stood and, in unison, bowed to one knee.
"We offer our powers against the Armies of Ragnarok. We fight for survival of our own and all others." In agreement, all of the mystics seemed to growl, the low sound echoing through the chamber like distant thunder.
Elsa narrowed her eyes in thought, but she didn't get very far. The Snow Queen gasped as she felt her Awareness gently lifted from her body.
Still in the throneroom, Elsa examined her transparent hands before noticing Anna still holding onto her. Anna's astral spirit grinned sheepishly and Elsa noticed a thread of green-gold light that wrapped around her waist, linking her spirit to her body. A quick look about the room showed that Anna had given the same treatment to Kristoff, Alphonse, Rapunzel, and Eugene.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa also noticed another detail. Anna's body had her arm outstretched, her fingers splayed as she dropped a piece of fruit. But what was strange was how slowly it was falling, like a snail crawling across the ground. Was her little sister slowing down time?!
"No," Anna reassured, "I'm not slowing down time. We're just acting at a faster pace than everything else. Gives us time to discuss." That settled, Elsa turned her attention to the circle of spirits around her.
"Do you trust them?" Elsa asked, addressing everyone. All of these people she would trust with her life. If a majority favored it, she would be all too happy to accept these mysterious mages.
"They've told the truth from the moment they arrived," Alphonse surmised. "These men are a legend among the Ashlands, whispers told of their great power that they hide from the world. And given their clear hatred for the Maras, they would make valuable allies even without their magic." Elsa nodded in acknowledgement.
"He's right about the legendary thing," Kristoff spoke up. "Cliff and Bulda used to tell me stories about them when I was little. Stories about men like me, who hid in the forest and protected their own, just like the trolls. Sons of wolves who could use magic." He paused in thought, thinking out his opinions, before nodding to himself. "I think we can trust them to at least fight alongside us." Elsa heard the message between the words: Not necessarily for them, but not against them. Elsa nodded.
"I say we get 'em lined up and point 'em at Han's thugs," Anna voted. "I mean, anyone who can take out some Loki's guys is fine by me. What's the old saying? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'? Well, they've definitely got a beef with those stupid she-wolves, so sign them up!" Elsa grinned at her sister's analysis. A third nod.
"Rapunzel? Eugene?" she asked. Rapunzel was quite for a moment before she nodded.
"I get the feeling that they are here for more than revenge," she admitted. "They seem to want to actually help us, or at least help the world. And Anna's right. At this point, against odds that decide the fate of everything we love, we need all the help we can get." Another nod.
"Hey, I'm just an ex-thief," Eugene said with raised hands," but I know a thing or two about tactics. And these guys," he gestured at the still forms of the Avvisade, "they could be an ace in the hole. And Blondie's right. Any extra guy on our side could tip the balance from total devastation to …" he paused as if searching for the right words, "even just less-than-total devastation would be okay." Another nod.
Elsa sighed to herself. Even if she had voted against it, and she was doubtful that she would have even before all of these reasons, she was outgunned. The Avvisade were a valuable resource that Fate had literally dropped in their laps. The royals-turned Residuum would be fools not to use them.
Elsa nodded to Anna, who grinned and forced her arms out to her sides. Everyone was whipped back into their bodies-
Elsa grunted as she returned to her physical self, just barely keeping her outward composure. Gjeter raised an eyebrow in confusion before brushing it off. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn't; either way, he seemed not to care.
"Welcome to Arendelle," Elsa formally greeted, "and we gladly accept your offer to fight with us." The Avvisade nodded in unison and knelt before leaning back onto their backs. As one, the whole fifty-two of them began lightly snoring. Elsa raised an eyebrow in surprise, but then thought that if she had run for who-knows-how-many miles to reach Arendelle, she would be dead from exhaustion a dozen times over. They deserved their rest.
"Unless anyone else has further business," Alphonse said, "I think I'll turn in. I need to find exactly where we're fighting by sundown tomorrow." With that Alphonse brushed his lips against Elsa's cheek and left. Elsa smiled as she brushed her fingers against the spot that felt like it was burning. She glanced at Anna and Rapunzel when the princesses snorted and giggled respectively, and even Kristoff and eugene were struggling to hide their grins.
"What?" Elsa asked tartly.
"You're in looove," the princesses sing-songed, bringing a blush to the Snow Queen's cheeks. She huffed and strode away with as much dignity as she could muster (which, frankly, was a lot). She couldn't deny that it was true, but they didn't have to joke about it! Then again, she recalled doing just the same to Anna in the months before their engagement.
Ugh, karma was too cruel!
As the royals set up the deal with the Avvisade, Viola elected to stay in the garden. It wasn't exactly that she was afraid of the Avvisade, it was that they made her uneasy. They were a faction of warrior-mages that technically belonged in the Ashland community, but had never made efforts to connect. They kept to themselves and guarded their secrets. And it was that mystery that made her uneasy. But, given the world-defining battle that would happen in less than two days, she was willing to look past that.
Viola's thoughts were interrupted by the quiet sigh of an arriving wisp. She smiled and scooped up the ethereal creature, lifting it to her ear so she could listen. What it said made her smile widen and she thanked the wisp before it vanished. As of now, the Avvisade were not the only creatures who had decided to fight with the royals.
During the battle, the fury of the forest would be on their side.
As the moon rose over the fjord, a lone figure rose from the river that ran through and watered the town. The figure, a male, looked about him at the buildings and huts and shook his head with kind incredulity. How could humans live like this? Cut off from the natural world as if it were just waiting to destroy them? He shrugged and made for the castle. Hanging from his clenched hand was a violin case grown from the trunk and branches of his favorite oak tree.
Like all Ashlanders, Fell knew what was coming. And he knew that, should the Liar succeed, he would burn the world. And that was something that he was all-too-willing to help prevent, in any way he could. Fell hefted his case as he neared the castle.
It was time to visit an old friend.
Things are coming to a head. Only one day left until the Final Battle. That means (sob, sob) that this story will soon draw to a close. Not to worry, though; I have a slight idea for a shorter sequel if anyone is interested. Leave reviews to vote yay or nay.
Hope you guys liked it. More to come soon enough. (My updates will speed up again after the semester!)