by Pirateaba
—-
Ceria sat in front of the doors leading to the room with the Golems, staring at it. Holding herself back from going in. She wanted to. She wanted to die.
Her master was dead. The other mages were dead. They had died, and the Golems remained. All of them. Each one was intact, each one whole. Ceria couldn’t remember—she had seen them lying on the floor—
The memory was too horrible for her mind to actively remember, but Ceria knew she had seen the four Golems before Cognita had pulled her back. Damaged, maybe, but all intact.
They were all still there. And the mages—her friends—Illphres.
Were dead.
Ceria wanted to go in that room. She wanted to cast her spells, fight for the few seconds she could. She knew she’d die. But she wanted to prove that Illphres had taught her. Prove she’d been right. Not that she’d done all this for nothing.
It was impossible. Ceria was just dreaming. She’d wake up and—and wake up in her bed. This was just a bad dream.
But it was reality. And although Ceria sat in the corridor for hours, wishing, praying, reality would not change for her.
In the end, it was someone else who made Ceria look up.
“Ah. You’re still alive?”
It was a voice Ceria had never heard, not once. She looked up and saw Amerys standing over her. Amerys, the Calm Flower of the Battlefield. One of the King’s Seven.
“Go away.“
The woman stared down at Ceria as the half-Elf clutched at her arms, hard enough to bruise her skin. She looked at the doors.
“Well, Illphres is gone now, is she? Too bad. I’ll miss her for morning practice. She was always the best at making barriers.”
That casual sentence, the simple acknowledgement of everything Ceria was denying, was too much. She leapt to her feet.
“Shut up! Shut up!”
Amerys looked at Ceria, calmly. Not with amusement or scorn, but with something as cold as Illphres’ ice in her eyes.
“She’s dead.”
“No, she’s—”
Ceria couldn’t lie. But she didn’t want to say it. Amerys studied her and shook her head.
“You know, she told me she was challenging the Golems tonight. She asked me to stop you from killing yourself if she failed.”
“She what?”
Ceria stared at Amerys in shock. The woman nodded.
“I would have come earlier, but I figured that you’d either be in that room by now, dead, or wallowing in misery out here.”
“But she—she didn’t think she’d—she was going to—”
“Change Wistram?”
Amerys snorted softly. Ceria choked. Now tears were falling from her eyes again. Amerys looked back at the doors and sighed softly.
“Perhaps she would have. But Cognita was too strong, wasn’t she? If I’d agreed to help, we probably would have died. Then again, maybe not. We’ll never know.”
“She asked you?”
“Oh yes.”
The woman nodded, meeting Ceria’s horrified stare.
“I told her no.”
“Why? She asked you and you said no? You—you coward! If you’d been alive, if you’d helped her—”
Ceria began screaming at Amerys. The woman shook her head, ignoring Ceria’s helpless fury.
“It was too risky. If there was a chance of me dying—I told Illphres I wouldn’t risk it. I told her to wait, even if it was for another decade, to challenge the Golems with ten times their number if they could. It turns out I was right.”
“She was brave! She was a true mage! She and Jurix and Bastam and the others—they had courage. You’re supposed to be a famous mage! Why didn’t you go? Are you afraid? Are all of the King of Destruction’s servants such cowards?”
It was only when Amerys’ eyes flashed with fury that Ceria realized who she was talking to. A living legend, the equivalent of any Named Adventurer. Amerys spoke softly, but her voice was filled with controlled…passion.
“Coward? I suppose that’s fair. But if I am a coward, it is for my King. Do not misunderstand me, half-Elf. I would go in that room and challenge the Golems alone if it were not for Flos, my liege.”
“Why?”
The woman turned away from Ceria. When she looked back over her shoulder, her eyes were shining with something similar to the look Ceria had seen in Illphres’ eyes.
“Because he is a king worth being a coward for. Because someday he will return. Make no mistake; someday I will be at his side and we shall challenge the Golems together. We will walk beyond those doors and see for ourselves the heights of magic. But until then I will do all I can to live until the day he calls for me.”
Ceria could say nothing to that. She let the tears run down her eyes as she stared at Amerys. The woman looked away and shook her head.
“Until that day I wait. Hah, it is hard to wait for him for so long. But he is worth it. My lord Flos is…and it isn’t as if there aren’t other dangers to fight in that time.”
“What do you…”
Only now that she was standing, looking at Amerys fully did Ceria see the cut on the woman’s leg. It had gone through her magical robes, cut into her flesh. It was bound tightly with gauze.
“You’re injured.”
“Yes, I am.”
“What happened?”
The Human woman looked at Ceria, not without a trace of pity. But only that. A trace. She pointed to the stairs.
“See for yourself.”
—-
There were less than sixty dead in truth. Less than sixty, but over half as many wounded, some critically. To Ceria, descending the steps and walking through the hallways in numb silence, it was as if the rest of Wistram were a reflection of the death above.
The shades called by Nekhret’s spell had flown through Wistram, not hunting Pisces but setting upon every living being they could find with death and cold fury. The mages and students, unprepared, had fought back, but many of their spells had failed to affect the magical creations.
If it were not for Cognita, if it were not for the Golems and the Archmages and senior mages, Ceria later learned, the casualties would have been far higher. Most of the shadows and phantoms had flown into the banquet hall during dinner, and it was there the battle had been fiercest.
Only sixty had died. But one of those sixty lay on the ground of the banquet hall, amid the overturned tables and trampled food and drink. He had fallen mid-gallop, hands raised, a wand still held tight in one of them.
His face wasn’t calm. It was desperate, fierce. Ceria stared down at Calvaron’s body and looked into Beatrice’s eyes as the Dullahan held him.
“This is your fault.”
She told Ceria that, as Mons sat on the ground next to Calvaron. Ceria didn’t know what to say.
“What happened?”
“Pisces.”
Beatrice turned away. Ceria stared at Calvaron until the Dullahan screamed at her. She wandered away, mumbling to people who asked if she was hurt. At some point she saw Cognita, organizing Golems as they helped tend to the dead.
She saw Pisces just once. He was imprisoned in a cage of magic, guarded by Golems who were there to protect him from the angry mages and students. He stared down at the ground, face pale. He didn’t see her.
The trial began that night and lasted well into next day. The charges were simple. Pisces had stolen the bones of one of the Archmages. He had plundered Archmage Nekhret’s tomb and unleashed her spell of retribution on the academy. All the dead were his fault.
The punishment was equally simple. The Council was split, many calling for banishment. Wistram had no jail. The others called for death.
Ceria watched the trial taking place, saw the outrage on the faces of the people around her. But she was numb to it all. News of what had passed above had spread, especially after it came to light how Pisces had reanimated the five fallen mages to break into the catacombs. That was a tragedy on its own, but the mages channeled their sh
ock into anger against Pisces.
Many voices spoke up that night, all for killing Pisces. The mages that held out argued against the death penalty because it would tarnish Wistram’s image, because it was wrong in this day and age, because they didn’t have the stomach for it. None because they felt sympathy for Pisces. He kept his head bowed as students and mages hurled accusations against him, screaming.
Beatrice spoke, and then Mons. She didn’t plead for Pisces’ innocence. She just told the Council she had no idea what was happening, and asked that Pisces be punished. She didn’t say what that punishment should be. Montressa stared at Pisces as if he were something she had never seen before.
Ceria was the last one to stand. When she did, the room went quiet. The mages knew she had been Illphres’ student. They knew she had been there when they had challenged Cognita and the other Golems, and when the doors had opened. It was Illphres’ body and the others Pisces had used to reanimate. They waited for Ceria to attack Pisces. She wondered if they would stop her if she tried to kill him.
There was nothing in Ceria’s heart. She looked inside her for her soul, but found it missing. It lay back above, in a corridor frozen in time where the frost clung to the walls. And as Ceria stood before the Council she spoke what was in her heart.
“Ceria Springwalker.”
Archmage Feor, the hero of her people, stared down sympathetically at Ceria. She stared back blankly.
“You have known the mage known as Pisces the longest. He has wronged you perhaps most of all. Is there anything you would like to tell the Council regarding his fate?”
Ceria stared around at the august assembly of faces staring down at her. She nodded slowly. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but magnified by the spell so it filled the room.
“There is something. If my master—if Illphres knew what Pisces had done with her body…she would have laughed. She would have laughed, and she wouldn’t have cared at all.”
The room fell silent. The mages murmuring to each other grew quiet as Ceria continued.
“Pisces? I know him. He was my friend. Once. I hate him for what he did to my master—for what he did to the others. I hate him so much I think I might kill him. But I hate the rest of you even more.”
She looked around the room, eyes burning.
“You knew they were going to challenge the Golems. You knew. They asked you—each one of you to join them. You all said no. So they had to go by themselves, only five of them. If there had been six, or ten—they might have lived. But they went alone, because the rest of you are cowards.”
Shock. Anger. It was all the same to Ceria. She stared around the room and addressed the Council of Wistram to their faces, called them what they were.
“You are all cowards. Fearful, small people, living in the shadow of the Golems. You won’t ever find true magic, not here. Not while Cognita and the Golems are the true rulers of this place. I’m leaving—I won’t stay here, hiding from the truth. So long as the Golems live, there are no true mages in Wistram. None, except for the dead.”
She turned and walked away. Voices shouted after her, but Ceria was deaf. She sat down and saw the Council restore order, begin to vote.
One more person strode into the room, unannounced. But she brought silence with her.
Cognita. She stood in front of the Council, the death of mages on her hands yet no trace of it marring her smooth exterior. Perfect, wrought of stone. Immortal. And she spoke for Pisces.
“I would ask you not to vote to execute this young student.”
“Why?”
The answer came from Feor. Ceria looked at him, and saw a trace of that fear in his eyes. In all the mages’ eyes. They looked at Cognita and saw something they could not surpass, did not dare to challenge. She addressed them calmly, her voice booming throughout the room unaided.
“Because it would be unjust. There have been other mages whose failed experiments have killed far more. There have been other students here who have committed greater crimes and been expelled for it. The death sentence has never been passed down for a true mistake made by a student. I argue for exile, not death. If you pass judgment, let it be for what he has done, not what he is. Necromancy is not a sin.”
Feor stared hard at Cognita.
“And what will you do if we vote to kill him?”
She replied calmly.
“I will do nothing. My role is to protect and serve Wistram and those who live within. But if you do decide to execute him, I will expect you to kill every student who errs thusly from now on.”
The mages murmured as she left. Pisces raised his head to stare after her. He saw Ceria staring at him and looked away.
In the end, the Council argued for hours, but voted. It was close, but those who voted for exile were slightly more numerous than those who voted for death. Feor stood on the podium, staring down at Pisces with contempt.
“For your crimes, we exile you. You will never set foot on Wistram’s shores again, under penalty of death. And this shall be spread across the world—no true mage of Wistram shall treat with you, Pisces.”
The young man didn’t look up. Feor’s gaze turned to Ceria’s and softened.
“As for you, Ceria Springwalker. You must leave as well. Pack your belongings. You will leave Wistram with the next ship.”
—-
One thing happened in between the time Ceria spent wandering Wistram. The half-Elf was attacked by Beatrice for defending Pisces as the Dullahan saw it, only saved by Mons. She was an exile among the other mages, none of whom spoke to her.
But one mage thought of her, or rather, her master. Amerys stood in front of the door that was still covered with frost and tried the handle. It didn’t work.
In the end Amerys gave up on waiting for a key to be brought and blasted the door open. The thunderous sound drew other students to her room. They backed away when they saw her exit the room, holding something in her hands.
“Here. Give this to Ceria Springwalker.”
“Me?”
“Do it. Or I will find out.”
Amerys thrust the ice-blue spellbook into the hands of one of the students in the crowd. He recoiled, but after she glared at him, took the book with trembling hands. Amerys strode away without a backwards glance.
The unfortunate Drake held the book in his hands, hesitating. He started down the corridor, but never got to Ceria’s room.
A young man stopped him in the hallway with some of his friends. The Drake and he argued. Gold was offered, then secrets. In the end the book was traded and it went with the young man.
Charles de Trevalier walked through Wistram, upwards, onto a balcony where Ceria had sat with Illphres once before. He stood on the edge over the open, looking down into the sea. Then he let the book drop down into the sea.
It splashed when it hit the water, and Charles saw the book freeze the ocean around it. It disappeared beneath the waves, encased in ice.
He turned around, smiling, and saw the Dullahan staring at him. Charles’ smile disappeared, but Beatrice said nothing. She turned and walked away.
—-
Two days later, Ceria found herself standing in the entrance hall, waiting. The ship was here at last, ready to take them to Izril. It wasn’t her choice. This was the first ship and so she had to be aboard it.
Someone else stood in the entrance hall, far away from her. Pisces kept his head down as he clutched the few things to his name. A spellbook, and a small bag. Ceria stared at him but he didn’t raise his head.
No one had come to see her off. Montressa had stopped by her room. Beatrice had not. Ceria had seen a few other students as well, but the rest of the mages had avoided her as well as Pisces.
This was it. Ceria stared numbly at the doors and realized it was time. She was leaving Wistram, a failure. With nothing to her name but a few coins and memories.
“Hold.”
The word caught Ceria as she started towards the doors. It came from a tall figure, Cognita.
She strode towards Ceria and stopped before the young half-elf. Ceria stared up blankly. Cognita inclined her head.
“Ceria Springwalker. I regret the death of Illphres and the other mages.”
“Do you really?”
Ceria said it numbly. Cognita nodded.
“I do. But I was created to protect and so I shall.”
“In that case, I hate you. I’ll hate you forever and I think you’re a slave. You don’t have will. You’re just a thing that pretends to sometimes be alive.”
“That is your choice.”
Cognita accepted Ceria’s statement without a hint of displeasure. She bent down to Ceria. Her eyes were intent on the half-Elf’s face.
“But I see in you something worthy. So I ask that you accept what comes next, and know that it is a sign of respect, not mockery.”
“What?”
Cognita didn’t answer. She strode towards the doors and threw them open. Ceria and Pisces shielded their faces from the sun’s glare.
“Step forwards, you two. Side by side.”
Unwillingly, Ceria did so. She stared at Pisces and he looked down. Cognita looked at both students and raised her voice.
Her words echoed throughout Wistram. They weren’t loud, not a shout, but they travelled through the corridors, into rooms, making mages stand up and go to the windows. Those that were already watching were joined by other mages as Cognita spoke to the academy.
“Today Wistram will see two students depart from its shores. These two mages leave, one exiled, the other in contempt. They leave as failures by the reckoning of the Council. But the Golems of Wistram disagree.”
She swept an arm out. Shading her eyes, Ceria heard Pieces draw in his breath. She looked out, down the winding stone staircase that led to the stone harbor and gasped.
Golems stood on the staircase. Hundreds of Golems. Stone ones carved to look like Humans or other races, suits of animated armor, creations Ceria had only seen once or twice. A Golem made of pure emerald stood next to one that seemed to be made of the wind itself. It stood next to a being of wood with moss and flowers growing out of its body. It held a sword out, saluting the air.
