Guild Mage: Apprentice-Chapter 106. A Voice in the Dark

The morning after the funeral, Liv rose early and dressed in the winter things stored in her rooms at Kelthelis. The parka with an outer layer of seal fur, the boots, all of it. She didn’t intend to have much waste heat to work with.

She wasn’t quite able to leave the courtyard alone; two of House Syvä’s guards accompanied her out onto the frozen plain, out of caution. Liv began with the clouds, few and thin as they were. She still found it easier to manipulate ice crystals overhead and build a charge before calling upon it. While she worked, the sky passed from stars scattered on emptiness, broken only by the ring overhead and the dancing lights of the north, to a pre-dawn haze of blue on the horizon.

Luc was like a willful horse. She fought with it, as much as she used it. In some ways, however, the tundra proved an excellent place to practice: with no nearby trees, mountaintops or temple spires, there were less distractions to lure the lightning bolts from the path Liv set out for them. She had the warriors mark targets for her in the snow, and by the fifth casting, she managed to strike true.

Liv was tempted to build on that success, especially since it was so difficult to find a chance to practice the royal word of power while she was at Coral Bay. She also wasn’t willing to traverse the shoals surrounding the Tomb of Celris without the ability to defend herself - or her friends.

When she returned to the castle of ice, escorted by the warriors, Sidonie was waiting for her.

“Good morning,” Liv said. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” Sidonie watched her carefully. “I didn’t realize that lightning storms happened this far north. I thought that required warmer air.”

Liv shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never made a study of how the weather works.” She paused for a moment, waiting to see whether her friend would press the point, but Sidonie seemed content to leave the conversation there.

Over breakfast, Keri announced his intention to leave that morning. “I’m pleased that I could help your family,” he told Liv’s father. “And honored to have been able to attend the funeral. But I have not returned to Mountain Home since the ambush, and I need to be certain that my family returned safely.

“Of course,” Valtteri said. “I’ve already asked more of you than I had any right to. We can send an escort of warriors to help get you to the waygate - in fact, I will go myself.” He glanced over to Liv. “When do you intend to return to Coral Bay?”

There was a part of Liv that wanted to stay a few more days, but she couldn’t see what there was for her to do which would be useful, now the funeral was over. If her father wouldn’t let Liv go to Varuna to help there - and if neither he nor her grandmother was willing to explain to her just what was so important about the Tomb of Celris, she couldn’t stand the thought of just waiting around, idle.

“Today, I suppose,” Liv answered. “Unless there is a reason for me to stay longer?” She met her father’s eyes and held his gaze, hoping that he would change his mind.

“I think that is a good idea,” her grandmother said. “You need to get your friends back, in any case, and it is safer to travel in a group.”

Liv pushed aside her plate and rose from the table. “I’ll be in my bed chamber then, getting my things together.”

It didn’t really take her all that long; Liv was surprised to find that someone had cleaned and oiled her leather armor, while she was otherwise occupied. She managed to get most of the pieces on herself, over a clean dress, but was just struggling a bit with the cuirass and backplate when a knock came at her chamber door.

“Come in,” Liv said, expecting Sidonie, or perhaps one of the other girls. Instead, the door opened to reveal her grandmother.

“Let me help you with that,” Eila murmured, and crossed the fur-strewn floor to Liv’s side. “Don’t feel left behind dear,” she said, once she had the first buckle secured. “Once your father is off for Varuna, I’m going to go stay with my brother for a while. I don’t want to be alone here without your grandfather. I don’t think it would be good for me.”

“I could go with you,” Liv offered. “I could go with him.”

“I know you want to,” her grandmother said. “And I hope you can forgive us for wanting to keep you safe for just a little while longer.”

“It won’t be four years,” Liv promised her. “I’ll learn everything I can learn, and I won’t stay a moment longer.”

Her grandmother finished with the last buckle, and moved around to stand in front of Liv. “It’s natural to be angry after someone we love dies,” Eila said. “Even more so when there’s someone to blame. And it’s fair blame,” she continued, before Liv could interrupt her. “But don’t do something foolish out of that anger, Liv. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, too. It’ll help me to stand knowing your father is in danger, if I also know you’re at that college, away from the fighting.”

“How long do you really think it will be before they do something in Lucania, as well?” Liv asked, her tone sharper than she’d intended it to be. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Grandmother. None of this is your fault. But I don’t want to be shoved off to the side. I’d rather be with my father. Wouldn’t we be safer together than we will be alone?”

“Perhaps,” Eila admitted. “But then again - your grandfather told me enough stories about brothers dying side by side in battle, or parents and their children, that I think I would rather not have the two most important people left to me in the same place right now. Even if something happens in Coral Bay, Archmagus Loredan is there.”

“Do you know him?” Liv asked.

“He may be the only human both brave enough, and polite enough, to have travelled the north in the past hundred years,” Eila said. “I’ve met him twice, briefly. Both times at Al’Fenthia. And I’m going to give you a letter to hand to him. If there’s anyone in the south I trust to both keep you alive, and to teach you, it’s him. I’ll write to you, as well, have no fear of that. Whenever I have word of your father.”

“I still don’t like this,” Liv said, reaching out for her belt and sheath.

“I don’t expect you to,” her grandmother said. “Go and see your friends get back safely. Can you cast silently, yet?”

Liv shook her head.

“I expect you to show me a silent spell when next we see each other,” Eila told her. “And ask Caspian Loredan what Authority is, when next you see him.” She grinned, though her eyes remained sad.

The journey back to the waystone was not taken at quite the breakneck speed with which they’d arrived at Kelthelis, but it was significantly more safe. Liv and the others rode with a dozen Elden warriors, and her father besides. Sidonie, Arjun, Tephania and Rosamund were all given seal skin parkas, and northern horses to ride.

“I’ll find a way to send your southern horses back,” Valtteri promised. “Blankets enchanted to keep them warm, perhaps, or we’ll wait until the summer. But I don’t want to risk their health further by running them across the tundra again before they’ve even had a chance to recover.”

Once, he stopped to point out a herd of Hastim in the distance: great, shaggy beasts that moved ponderously across the snow. Liv had only ever seen them at a distance, though she’d occasionally eaten their meat, during her visits. Sidonie wanted to stop and sketch the animals in one of her journals, and practically had to be dragged away.

When they reached the edge of the shoal, Liv reined in Steria, and turned to Arjun. “I didn’t even think to ask,” she said. “Was anyone suffering from mana sickness, after our arrival?”

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“Only very minor cases,” the dark-haired boy said. “And our journeyman was able to drain the excess mana.” He nodded his head to Sidonie, who smiled and waved. “In fact, the only one I didn’t check was you, Liv.”

“That kind of short exposure isn’t enough to cause me problems,” Liv told him. “But lets make certain we check everyone once again once we’re back in Coral Bay.” She addressed Keri next. “Are you coming to Coral Bay with us, or waiting to use the waystone yourself?”

“It seems more prudent to go with you,” Keri said. “That way, I can make certain you arrive safely, and then leave without being under attack from mana-beasts.”

“Safer for my men, as well,” Liv’s father said. “The less time we need to remain inside the shoals, the better. Is everyone prepared? Let us do the fighting for you on the way in, and ride at the center.”

Liv drew her wand anyway, just to be prepared, but she needn’t have bothered. With such a large force, and the speed at which they travelled, the party managed to either outrun or fend off first a curious white fox, then a maddened elk of enormous size, and finally a small pack of wolves that shadowed their passage for half a bell, and then turned aside, thinking better of their prey.

When the hooves of their mounts clattered onto the icy stone, Liv immediately slid down out of her saddle, strode to the sigil for Coral Bay, and pressed her hand there. The waystone needed only a little mana to begin the process; she could feel that it was positively brimming with magic from being located within the shoals of the rift. Blue light began to gather around them, and she hurried back to Steria so that she could get into the saddle.

“Be safe,” her father called, from where his horse pranced just outside of the gathering magic. “You can join me in Varuna when you’ve completed your studies, but not before.”

“Make certain you’re still there when I arrive,” Liv called back to him. “I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

Before Valtteri could call back, Liv’s sight of him was blotted out by blinding white light. This time, she was in no hurry to be gone from the vast, endless darkness. The distance it gave her from the world also seemed to push her emotions to arm’s length, and the knot of grief that had been screaming from the center of Liv’s chest dwindled.

Something brushed at the edge of her consciousness.

“Come here, sweet girl,” her grandfather said.

If Liv had a body, she would have spun around, but it was like the teasing of a playful kitten at the edge of her awareness. The tag of a soft paw, and then gone, scampering off again. The darkness was empty.

“There’s something you need to get from the tomb of my father.” There it was again, and more: a glimpse of a silver band, plain and unassuming, resting on the temples of a yellowed-skull.

The world returned abruptly, and Liv nearly fell out of the saddle. “Grandfather!” Her hand was extended, searching, before she could stop herself.

“Are you alright?” Rosamund asked, riding closer to her.

“I thought I heard something,” Liv told her. “In the place between.”

“There’s nothing there,” Sidonie said. “It’s just the mortal mind can’t cope with a complete lack of the senses, and so we begin to hallucinate.”

“Journeyman Corbett!” a voice called, from the road that led down to the waystone. There, Liv recognized Turstin, one of Professor Norris’ enchanting students, from when he’d helped unload her casque when she’d arrived.

Sidonie kneed her borrowed northern horse forward off the waystone, and the rest of the party followed, save for Keri. “Yes, Turstin?”

“The professors are waiting for you and this lot,” the muscular young man said. “I’m to escort you all up, and make certain no one wanders off.”

“It seems you’re all safe enough now,” Keri said, swinging one leg over his saddle and dropping down to the ground. He paced over to a particular sigil and kneeled there. Liv made certain to mark it: as soon as she had a moment to sit down with one of her journals, she wanted to write down which symbol would take her to Mountain Home, in the event she ever needed to go there.

“Safe travels,” she said. “And give your son a great big hug for me. He looks very sweet.”

Keri rose from the waystone and turned back to her as the blue light built. “When did you ever meet my son?” he asked. Then, a column of white light erupted from the stone, shooting up into the sky as if it would touch the ring, and he was gone.

“So, how much trouble do you think we’re in?” Rosamund asked, with a wide smile. The prospect didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“Trouble?” Liv frowned. “Did you all not ask permission to go?”

“Wait, you did?” Rosamund shot back. “I just assumed they would say no.”

“I told you we should have asked!” Tephania said, riding up and slapping the short-haired woman on the shoulder. “And as wonderful as these - parkas? - are up north, here they’re going to bake me like a loaf of bread.” She began to struggle out of her sealskin.

“Thank you for coming,” Liv said. “All of you. I wasn’t certain when I saw you waiting, but it was better than going alone. I’ll tell the archmagus that, though I don’t know if it will make a difference.”

“You were right about the cold,” Tephania said. “And the fighting. I - I think I need to learn a word,” she admitted. “I felt useless. Like everyone else had to carry me along and protect me.”

Liv bit her lip: she wasn’t sure what she could say that would both be truthful, and also not hurt the other girl’s feelings. She was grateful when Arjun spoke up, so that she didn’t have to.

“I wish I could have done more,” he said. “I can’t help but wonder if Professor Annora could have, in my place.”

Turstin led them right into the great hall, past knots of students who stared and whispered as the group passed. Liv guessed that their absence had been noted, and wondered just what sorts of rumors might have gotten started. She couldn’t find it in her to care very much.

They were left to stand outside of the archmagus’ study for a few moments before being shown in, and even though she couldn’t see how she might be in trouble herself, Liv was reminded of the times when her mother or Gretta had gotten out a wooden spoon. This room was full of the same foreboding atmosphere.

Archmagus Loredan rose from his desk. “Thank you, Journeyman Turstin,” he said. “Your presence is no longer required. Please close the door behind you on your way out.”

There was only silence until they all heard the door latch with a soft click.

“Apprentice Brodbeck,” the archmagus began, “Professor Jurian informed me of your family’s loss, and his assurance of the college’s permission for you to travel north for mourning. You may leave, if you wish. You have our deepest condolences, and you have done nothing wrong.”

“That’s not quite true,” Liv told him. “I made the decision to take them all along. I could have said no.”

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Loredan tapped his finger against the polished wood of his desk. “You wish to be included in their punishment, in that case?”

Liv took a deep breath, and looked around at her friends. Despite the fact most of them had only known her for a few weeks, they’d insisted on going along to support her. Into danger, no less - just because none of them had been seriously injured, didn’t mean there’d been no risk. “Yes,” she said.

“Very well. Journeyman Corbett.” Sidonie flinched at her name. “I am rather surprised at this behavior from you. I cannot recall a single other instance of you violating even a minor rule, during your entire tenure here.”

“My apologies, Archmagus,” Sidonie said, lowering her eyes.

“And yet, if there is any good reason for breaking a rule, it must be compassion,” Caspain Loredan admitted, with a sigh. “You should have asked permission to depart, all of you. It would likely have been granted, if you’d only shown a bit more patience. Your punishment is twofold. Firstly: visiting the north, anywhere outside of Al’Fenthia, is a rare privilege. The group of you will compile your observations on the flora, the fauna, and the rift, in a volume to be stored in the university library. Apprentice Brodbeck, I expect your knowledge of the far north to be on full display. Journeyman Corbett, I expect to be impressed by those illustrations that Professor Blackwood praises you for. You all have until spring to complete this assignment. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Archmagus,” the group chorused.

“Very well. The second part of your punishment is this: since you’ve all obviously decided that you function best as a team, I expect every one of you to be prepared for the second king tide of the year. Journeyman Corbett, you will teach them, outside of their classes, for however many hours are required. I expect every one of these students to be in an advanced combat class - which one I do not care - by the time teams for the next tide are made. Are these punishments understood?”

Before anyone else could open their mouths, Liv answered: “Yes, Archmagus Loredan. Thank you. If you don’t mind, we’ll step out to begin arranging our schedules to get everything done. Oh, and my grandmother sent this for you.” She set the letter on the desk, hesitated, and then decided that she would ask him the question later, without so many people present.

“Good. Off with you, then,” the archmagus said, taking his seat again. He picked the message up, but seemed to be waiting to unseal it until he had privacy.

“An entire book!” Rosamund complained, as soon as they were out the door into the hallway. “How are we possibly going to write an entire book?”

“He could have done a lot worse,” Liv said. “There wasn’t even a warning about sending anyone home. I think he’s not really very angry, but had to do something or the other students would get the wrong idea.”

“An advanced combat class, though?” Tephania complained. “You don’t understand Liv, I’m hopeless at that sort of thing.”

“Then it's a lucky thing we’re going to help you, isn’t it?” Liv said. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to smile, so she put her hand on the other girl’s shoulder, instead. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”