Chapter 58: Outpour
Maybe this year she could be brave. Achlys's tenth Finding Day was approaching. Nearly ten years, or a 'decade' if she were to use that fancy word she learned from her father, on the Isles. After this year, she wouldn't be able to count them on her fingers anymore. She was going to be a big girl, two whole numbers to her age, and thought that perhaps it was time for her to start acting like a big girl. No more hiding behind her father and no more running from every fight; it was time to show everyone how strong she could be.
But as she looked out across the yard to the wrathful horseman glowering by the gate, she felt her confidence begin to waver. Hecarim was back, as he was every year near her Finding Day, to inspect her growth, voice his dissatisfaction with hit, and storm off until next year. It was something that both she and Karthus were growing weary of.
When Karthus had seen Hecarim's approach, he had told her to wait inside and that he would see the horseman off. And so Achlys waited inside the chapel, peaking through the open door and watching Karthus speak with Hecarim, but after several minutes of arguing it was obvious from even her distance that Hecarim would not be leaving. At least not without getting his yearly scowl at Achlys in.
Letting out a long sigh, Achlys resigned herself to what had to be done.
"Acheron," she called, "come here."
She held her hand up for her hand up for her companion to rest in. Acheron landed in her palm and she began to channel her magic into him until his aura of balefire blazed brightly. Achlys had seen weaker wraiths howl wildly and flare the auras when they felt threatened to intimidate away foes and she hoped that by making Acheron look more fearsome, she would also appear more powerful.
"Are you ready, Acheron?" she asked as she withdrew her hand.
Acheron made a low thrumming noise in response.
"Good," Achlys nodded, "let's go."
With Acheron at her side, she stepped form the cathedral and walked with as much bravery as she could muster towards the gate.
"If she were to become a knight," Hecarim was saying, "she would have begun her martial training by now."
"Even death cannot save your misshapen mind," Karthus responded, "she is not meant to be a knight. Her skills lie in magic and she has been training consistently in it since I learned she had the gift. We repeat this conversation every year and which each passing year I believe this is less about her being able to defend the Isles as it is about another matter. Admit it Hecarim, you are simply sore that there is a living person that you cannot kill."
"It is only that the Isles seem to desire that she lives that she continues to do so," Hecarim grumbled, "I would kill her, were I permitted to, and it would be no challenge at all."
"That's not true."
Both Karthus and Hecarim turned to look at the source of this interjection.
"Achlys," Karthus said, "you do not need to be here. You may go back to the cathedral. I will take care of this."
"No," Hecarim scoffed, "I want to hear what she has to say."
He turned his attention to Achlys. Karthus moved between the two of them, but Hecarim towered over the lich and he could stare down at Achlys all the same.
"Speak," he ordered.
"You wouldn't be able to kill me easily," Achlys protested, "I am stronger than you think."
"I think very little of you. It is not difficult to surpass my expectations of you. I had grown so used to seeing you cower behind Karthus's robes that any time I see you away from him; it is more than I expect. It is nothing to be impressed by."
"I can be brave."
"She can be," Karthus confirmed, "I have watched her work diligently towards overcoming her fears. She has approached you and spoken to you of her own free will, something that was a challenge years ago. Be satisfied with that."
"And I can do it better," Achlys added, "no shaking or crying this time."
A scoff was Hecarim's response.
Achlys scowled.
Nothing was ever good enough for Hecarim. If his criticism was not about her timidness, then it was about her strength. If not about her strength, then it was her size. Two years ago, he complained that her hair was too long and too easy for an enemy to grab hold of. The year before that, it was because she didn't not know how to hold a weapon properly. Too young to learn horsemanship. Too old to be carry around a doll. Something was always wrong.
And Achlys was fed up with it.
"So what would impress you?" she demanded.
"You do not need to prove anything," Karthus said, "I know you have grown and you know it. That is what is important."
"But I want to," she responded, "I want him to know how strong I am so he stops bothering us."
"Achlys, you do not have to-"
"But I want to!"
Achlys puffed up her chest in an attempt to look tougher.
"Please, Father," she said, "let me do this. He's mean and I'm tired of him being mean to me and I want him to go away and to make him go away I need him to know that I am stronger."
Karthus looked at Achlys and considered her words. He did not like the idea of her confronting Hecarim in any degree, but he could not deny the truth in what she said either. If she proved herself, Hecarim would leave. Karthus cast a brief look over to the other wraith, who was watching Achlys with a bemused expression, as though her insistence on proving herself was little more than a child's tantrum, and then back at his daughter. Her eyes were bright and pleading.
He recalled how she had been after he collected her from Thresh the other week. Her attitude had been the complete opposite of how it had been when he had left her with the Warden; from listless and mournful to shaken but determined. It was such a turn around that Karthus had demanded to know what he had done to Achlys to cause such a change. Thresh had assured him that all he did was help Achlys learn a bit of self-defense so that she would be less fearful and have more self-confidence.
Though Karthus still believed that Thresh had some ulterior motive for teaching Achlys "self-defense," he could not ignore the results. Achlys's mood had improved, she had resumed practicing her magic with renewed vigor and more of a focus on combative magic, and now she was trying to stand up for herself to Hecarim of all wraiths. And so, despite his hesitancy to the whole situation, he felt that not giving her a chance would be counter to all the effort she was putting into her self-growth.
"Very well, Achlys," he said, "do what you wish, but remember, that we know you have grown, and that is what is important. Do not push yourself more than you are comfortable."
"Coddling her even as she tries and grow a backbone," Hecarim mocked.
"No," Karthus responded, "I am trying to teach her that she does not need to give into the goading of others if she does not want to. It is a shame none taught you that lesson in life."
Hecarim grunted, but made no other comment.
"I will do my best," Achlys promised.
She then turned to Hecarim and spoke to him.
"What do you want me to do to prove I am brave?"
It did not take Hecarim long to respond.
"Strike me," he demanded.
"You want me to hit you?"
"You may attempt to. I do not care how you attempt to do it, with magic or a weapon."
"I can do that."
"We shall see."
Hecarim moved from the fence to a clearing where they would have more space. He carved a line in the dirt with his glaive for Achlys to stand on and then walked twenty paces from that spot, a significantly further distance than if Achlys were the one to take twenty paces back. He then turned and issued his challenge again.
"Strike me once," he said, "and I will be satisfied."
Achlys nodded and let her hands glow with magic.
"I can do this," she repeated, "I can do this."
With each repetition of her mantra, the balefire that flickered about her fingers grew.
"Remember, Hecarim," Karthus warned, "it is against the will of the Isles that she be harmed by you. If you put her in danger, I will intervene."
"I will not kill her," Hecarim responded, "but it takes very little to break fragile things."
Karthus cast a hateful scowl.
"Don't worry, Father," Achlys said, "I can do this."
When he looked at her, he saw that her eyes were filled with bold conviction, an expression he was not used to seeing in her. He nodded and moved back from the pair.
Achlys was the first to move. She grabbed Acheron from the air and forced more of her magic into him until he glowed so brightly he was almost painful to look at. Then she sent him flying.
"Go, Acheron! Get him!"
The skull went soaring towards Hecarim like a comet. The excess magic that poured from him hastened his movements as he went howling towards the Horseman's breastplate. But as fast as he was, Hecarim was faster. Waiting until he was less than an arm's length away, Hecarim turned suddenly and leap from Acheron's path. But Acheron was a persistent guardian and he whipped himself around and made another charge at his target.
Again and again, Acheron lunged at Hecarim, each time narrowly missing. Hecarim turned and weaved around the blazing skull, his equine form moving with such unnatural agility that master riders would have looked upon in envy.
With each moment that he avoided Acheron, the guardian's aura began to waver as he expended all his borrowed magic in trying to maintain his frenzied pace, and by the minute's end, the magic was gone, leaving Acheron with only his stored inner power.
"Is that all you can manage, child," Hecarim asked as he effortless circled the now slower guardian before turning to glower back at Achlys, "sending another to fight for you?"
"No!" she snapped, "I can fight for myself too. You watch! Acheron, keep pushing, we'll fight together."
She called a ball balefire to her hands and threw it towards her opponent. It was an attack he dodged with even more ease. This did nothing to deter Achlys, and she hurled balefire ball after balefire ball in a steady pace. She thought about what Thresh had taught her, about watching an enemy's movements to try and predict where they will move and then aiming for where they would be, not where they were. But attempting to watch his hooves was a dizzying matter, and she could feel herself growing less sure of where he was going to step next.
She shifted her focus upwards, tracking instead Acheron's movements. His pattern was one she was more familiar with and she began to plan her next attack around him. She knew Hecarim would have to move to avoid his path, so as her partner began another charge, Achlys sent a balefire ball flying from a perpendicular direction.
If she were lucky, one of the two attacks would catch him, but she did not want to rely on luck alone. As one hand sent the coldly burning magic flying, the other reached out with tendrils of her binding magic, twirling wildly as they went. Hecarim was far too powerful a wraith to bind to her will, she knew this, but that was not her intent. "Attack the legs," was another thing Thresh had advised her to do. Even if you could not cripple them with the blow, even if you only made them stumble, it could be all the advantage you needed to land a decisive blow.
That was all Achlys needed, to slow him just enough to strike him once. It was all she needed to win. All she needed to prove herself.
However, that was not was about to transpire. When Hecarim had noticed Achlys's magic racing towards him, he reared up on his hind legs and let out a roar, his balefire mane and tail flaring as more flames covered his hooves. Achlys's magic missed, its path disrupted by the wave of energy radiating from Hecarim. Acheron though, was still flying right towards the snarling face on Hecarim's breastplate, but before he could crash into him, Hecarim reached out and snatched the skull from the air with a single hand.
"Acheron!" Achlys cried.
Her guardian screeched, flared his balefire, and struggled against Hecarim's grip, but he could not free himself. Hecarim looked between the struggling thing and Achlys and let out a low chuckle that sounded like the rumble of distant thunder.
"Even with two of you, even with trickery, you cannot do it. Perhaps I need to make this easier for you. Here girl," he tapped his hand holding the glaive against his chest, "I'll give you a direct target. Don't miss."
He threw Acheron to the side, sending him tumbling over the dark earth of the Isles. Then, before Acheron could regain control of himself, Hecarim charged directly towards Achlys.
"Strike me!" he bellowed as his hooves tore burning wounds in the earth, "One strong blow!"
Achlys felt her heart leapt to her throat as she starred at the hulking armored form barreling towards her. In that moment, she forgot his oath to not kill her, she forgot her father was not far from her, she forgot how to breathe. All she could think of was the inferno of balefire and wrath coming directly towards her. It took all her willpower to throw a single, weak ball of magic at him.
Hecarim cut the spell in half with his glaive. His magic that ran over the surface of his accursed weapon dissipated Achlys's pitiful attack as though it were a candle blown out in a strong breeze, but that was not enough. He didn't slow his charge.
"Strike me!"
Achlys cowered. She covered her head and crouched low as Hecarim leaped over her. Even if she had not ducked, his hooves would have easily cleared the top of her head. He crashed down onto the ground like a strike of lightning.
As quickly as she could regain her senses, Achlys turned to where Hecarim had landed. A barrier of pale light, her father's magic, now separated them. On the other side Hecarim's glaive was lowered towards her.
"That's enough!" Karthus demanded as he flew to Achlys's side in a moment.
Hecarim snorted.
"I gave you a clear shot at me. All you had to do was be strong enough to not flinch away. Coward."
"I- I-" Achlys, still shaken, tried to defend herself.
"I said that's enough." Karthus repeated.
Hecarim ignored him.
"One last chance, girl. Right here, right in front of you. Strike me."
Achlys called the magic back to her hands in an instant, but Hecarim struck first. He swept his glaive through the barrier, knocking Achlys's feet out from under her with the blunt end of the weapon. Achlys tumbled backwards and she crashed to the ground and was left gasping.
Karthus raised his staff towards Hecarim's face. Its end shone like a cold sun.
"Cross this barrier one more time, Hecarim," the lich hissed, "and you will be reduced to nothing but Mist for the next century."
Hecarim and Karthus stared silently at each other, neither lowering their weapons. And as they did so, nobody noticed that air was not the only thing knocked form Achlys's body. A wisp of Black Mist, smaller than the smoke from a matchstick, escaped her lips. Around them, wild wraiths drawn in by the powerful emotions hissed and thrashed about, hungry for the raw emotions of the living girl, but far too terrified of the malice pouring from the greater wraiths. Eventually though, Hecarim lowered his weapon.
"And so the father comes to save his daughter again."
He turned his back on them and began to walk away. Immediately, Karthus crouched down and eased Achlys up to a sitting position. She continued to cough and her throat began to grow cold as though suddenly coated in ice.
"Achlys," Karthus said, "are you hurt? Are you in pain?"
Achlys shook her head and tried to speak, but all she could do was mouth out the word "no." She blinked away the tears in her eyes as she watched Hecarim leave.
"You have improved, "she could hear his condescending tone come back to her, "but you are still centuries behind the rest of us. You are weak."
As she listened, a burning rage built in her so hot and intense that she did not feel the cold in her throat. Achlys grit her teeth and began to pull herself to her feet. Karthus offered her his hand, but she did not take it. She did not even notice it. Her attention was focused only on Hecarim.
On shaking legs, she rose, and as she did magic returned to her hands. Different magic. It flared up her arms, flickering wildly like a thrashing animal, and burning with a sickly shade. This eerie color was reflected in her eyes as she glared forward. They glowed as brightly as if she had the balefire eyes of a wraith.
She placed her hands in front of herself and took a deep breath despite the ache she still felt in her chest. In a second, a new ball of balefire, crackling with malicious intent, formed between her hands. Then, she screamed and unleashed the magic.
"Hecarim!"
He turned just in time to see the attack. Had he been half a second slower, the magic would have exploded against him. Instead, he was able to leapt to the side as it crashed against the ground where he had been a moment before, sending a shower of icy embers spraying outwards. Several of these embers sprayed Hecarim's legs and he took another step back in surprise. Though his dead body could not feel the cold, he could feel the anger burning within them. He turned to face her once more.
"Is-" he began.
"Shut up!" Achlys screamed, "Shut up! Shut up!"
"Achlys," Karthus called to her in a soothing tone.
But she did not hear him. She could only hear her own anger.
"Don't say anything mean about me again! I'm not weak!" she continued to howl, "It's not fair! You're massive! Of course I can't be as strong or fast as you! It's not fair!"
With each seething sentence, the balefire crept up Achlys's arms.
"I'm not weak! I'm strong in other ways! Better ways! I can help, you can only destroy!"
The surrounding wraiths barred their fangs and let out howls of their own, spurred on by her madness.
"Let's see who is better at fixing memories! Me! As a helper, you are weak!"
Black Mist rolled over her lips. It chilled them blue but she did not notice.
'I am not weak!"
Her lips quivered and she let out a cough.
"I'm not a coward!"
She coughed again, this time releasing a tendril of Mist.
"And I-"
*COUGH*
"And I –"
*COUGH*
"I am-"
*COUGH COUGH*
"I-"
Achlys was never able to finish that sentence. She doubled over and began coughing with such force that she began to tremble. Karthus flew to her side.
"Achlys!" he asked, "Achlys, what's wrong?"
She opened her mouth to speak and out came a vomitus torrent of Black Mist. Her magic vanished in a flash. She raised her hands to cover her mouth, but the Mist, unrelenting, kept pouring from her. Her shaking legs suddenly gave out and she collapsed to her hands and knees. Then, with her back arched, she heaved out another coil of Mist. It spread from her, writing over the ground like a swarm of snakes.
Karthus was on his knees as well, desperately trying to figure out what was happening to his daughter. She turned to face him, her bright eyes filled with panic.
"Father," she pleaded between coughs, "help."
Behind him, another voice spoke.
"It appears as though the Isles no longer see fit to let her live."
Karthus spun around with more speed than Hecarim believed him capable of and pointed his staff towards the Horseman's chest. The magic at the end of the staff blinked out in an instant, only to coalesce again where it had been directed, and explode against Hecarim.
"Be gone you damnable brute!" Karthus commanded.
Though he spoke not a word to them, his choir felt the force of his summons and understood his intent. They came pouring from the cathedral, surrounding him and Achlys. Gaspare stood at the front of the choir. The Noxian had his sword drawn and his lupine fangs bared in a snarl.
Hecarim glowered down at Karthus's followers. He had no doubt that if he were to try, he would be able to cut down the vast majority of them in combat, but there was no need to. The Mist was killing the living for him. So with a snort, he turned once more to depart.
"This suffering will be her guide to death. Let's hope it changes her soul for the stronger."
Gaspare turned back to Karthus.
"He will not cross into the yard," the Noxian promised, "I vow on my honor as a soldier."
"Do what you must," Karthus responded.
He bent down and picked up his daughter, cradling her close to him and carried her back to the cathedral. Though he could not tell, she was as cold as a corpse.
"Father," she whimpered, Mist passing her lips even as she spoke, "is it my time?"
"Whether it is or not," he answered, "I will be right here with you, Achlys. I will be here."
He placed her on the altar and examined her shivering form as quickly as he could. There! He spotted something on her chest by her heart. He tore the fabric of her shirt open to get a batter look. Green light pulsed beneath her skin like an errant heartbeat. Karthus placed his hand over the spot and felt the immense magic that had been building here. He called what Thresh had told him he had seen over her heart; the Black Mist wrapped about it and Viego's mark upon her soul.
This had to be the cause of Achlys's pain. Karthus focused on it, weaving his magic backwards through the tendrils of Mist still spilling from Achlys towards the source. He exerted his will over this Mist just as he would any other, forcing it to grow still, and as he did, he sang.
"Hush hush, be still my child,
Give in to sleep, let your dreams run wild."
"Hush hush, close your eyes,
Still your heart, make no cries."
"Hush hush, let the day go,
And we will be together again tomorrow."
Steadily, the Mist ceased and Achlys's breathing returned to normal, though she still shivered from the cold. As exhausted as she was, Achlys tried to smile for him.
"Thank you," she silently mouthed.
"Shh," Karthus hushed, "I will take care of you. I will take care of you."
And though it made his soul ache, he realized that the best way to help her control the magic within her, would be to bring her to the source of it all.