Malwynn and Umaryn took that advice to heart, and remained isolated deep inside Dram's High City cliffside home, letting their injuries heal, and their physical pain subside.
Umaryn worked diligently on two forms of training. As before, she spent hour upon hour wracking her mind trying to wrap it around the rote instructions to new Artificer spells. She explained the struggle to Malwynn one day over dinner, as he too was attempting to learn The Way.
"Have you gotten to a spell that just doesn’t make any sense Mal?"
"What do you mean, make sense? All of The Way is a little nonsensical. Thinking in esoteric patterns, gesturing as if you're a stage actor with little training, handling strange materials that smell. None of it makes sense to me yet." Mal was still frustrated at that early point in the winter, when his learning was at its slowest.
Umaryn grinned. She was happy on a selfish level he was struggling. At last she held something over his head. "I know what you mean by that. I guess as you get better at it, some spells make sense to you more than others. Do you remember when I used to say that making horseshoes came easy to me?"
"Yeah," Mal said nodding.
"Well that Rope of Iron spell was like making a horseshoe for me. I get it. I learned it quickly. But this new spell I'm starting, Message Spirit, is like trying to teach a fish how to walk on land. It's so damn alien and bizarre."
"Now that, I can totally identify with."
Umaryn learned the spell after many arduous hours of study and practice. As it turned out, when she crafted an ornate message cylinder out of etched tin, the magic of the spell contorted into a form that her mind absorbed. She also applied her time to an opportunity that only came up when Malwynn turned away from his martial studies; learning how to wage war with her hammer. With Ivar's time suddenly free she booked him for her own purposes, and she was as fast a student as Malwynn. When the spring thaw was only a few weeks away, she was ten times as lethal with her hammer and now able to use swords, staves, and armor effectively. She was becoming the battle-Artificer of her wildest dreams, all on the coin of an Inquisitor of the Purple Queen.
She then understood why Malwynn had been so eager to learn Necromancy. It was a form of revenge.
Malwynn spent his winter similarly. Malwynn had always been the more bookish twin, so sitting down at an opulent desk and burying his nose in a dusty tome dedicated to harnessing the power of death was an easy, albeit morbid task for him.
Necromancers sought out the energies caused by natural means. Decay, rot, disease and death were all natural to the world. Everything decays over time unless an outside source prevents it. All organic matter rots away, cycling into nutrients for future life. Diseases exist in a million forms, causing sickness, mutation, and death. And nothing truly lives forever, thus death is natural. All of these sources of energy were essential and vital components to the function of life on Elmoryn, and necromancers had learned to tap into that reservoir of natural energy.
Malwynn felt like he had become part of an enormous cycle of life that been hidden from him his whole life. It mattered even more that with all this newfound knowledge of necromancy, he felt even closer to his mother, and her version of The Way. Apostle magic came from the spirits trapped in that half world between permanent death, and the afterlife. No spirit made the final jump to a peaceful oblivion on Elmoryn; such was the way of the world. All dead blessed by an Apostle went to this transitional world, and their presence was a font of The Way. Without death, there would be no spirits, and thus no Apostles. Many of the books that Dram had on his shelves argued that Apostle magic was less natural than necromancy, and their claims were not without some merit.
Despite those assertions, Malwynn came to realize that winter that without death, both he and his mother would not be able to wield The Way. Intrinsically, they were cut from the same cloth in more ways than one. He missed her more than ever.
Under Dram's tutelage Malwynn learned all of the basic neomancy spells. The generic uses of The Way available to all spell casters were somehow the hardest for him to learn, but once the first spell clicked, and he was able to start a fire with the power of his will alone, everything came together for him. By winter's end, he had nearly mastered the four easiest neomancy spells, as well as the four most basic necromancy spells.
Malwynn's favorite spell was entitled Intensify Rot. With just a touch of a rare plant called Obrinnor's moss found in The Commonwealth of Yokia, a distant nation on the east coast of Elmoryn, Malwynn could render a zombie dead again. The rancid flesh would turn black and moldy instantly, visiting a year's decay on the body, reducing it to nothing more than debris. The spell worked on any form of undead as well, not just zombies. Though against a more powerful form of the undead, it would likely not straight out kill them, merely maim them, and cause great harm.
He couldn't wait to put it to use against Omniri's sycophants.
When the icicles began to melt, and the cobblestone streets of Graben were almost bereft of their coating of snow, Dram gave them the first opportunity to strike at their foe.
They were not prepared for their target.
"Omniri's strengths are many. Chief amongst them as I've alluded to is his mastery of necromancy, and his station within the Empire that affords him," Dram said somberly from the head of his freshly polished and restored dining hall table. Umaryn had been practicing not only new spells, but fine tuning older ones, such as her Repair spell. Thus, the subterranean home was starting to look new, and lush.
"Second among them, is his inner circle of servants and acolytes," He followed. Dram shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, organizing his notes almost out of habit.
"And we need to remove his base of power before tackling him, right?" Umaryn asked just as her brother was about to.
"Correct. We are not fighting a single man, but an organization he has created around himself over the years. Select people in his… entourage must be removed."
Malwynn appreciated the idea of a systematic destruction of Omniri, one piece at a time. "Who do we start with? Who is our first target?"
"Ivar Brodull."
The twins went as white as the melting snow outside the manor.
"I’m sorry, Ivar?" Malwynn asked.
Dram nodded impassively, as if the fact was of no consequence, "Yes, Ivar Brodull. The man who spent months of his time teaching you swordplay. It is now your task to destroy him. Do you recall the day I stopped you Malwynn? And told you to study not only techniques of the man, but the man itself?"
Mal nodded. He remembered the moment clearly. "You weren't the necromancer that brought him back to life, were you?"
"No I was not Malwynn. And now you know. This was the true reason all along." Dram's tone deepened, becoming even more serious, "You are to kill him."
Umaryn and Malwynn were both numb. Over the course of the months of intense training the two had actually become almost friends with the Purple Knight. The thought of needing to kill him now was nearly unconscionable.
"Are you serious? He's so powerful. Malwynn watched him slay four soldiers without breaking so much as a sweat. He'll destroy us with ease," Umaryn said. She'd seen the goliath warrior cleave barrels in half with a single swipe of his sword. He had strength speed, and experience. She knew they'd be no match for him in anything resembling a fair fight.
"I think you underestimate your skill set young lady. You and your brother are not the twins that arrived here in Graben last fall. The autumn and winter have treated you well, and you are more than a fair match for him now."
Mal snorted, "I fail to see how we could beat him in a matched battle, even two on one."
Dram leaned back, abandoning his paper organization. "Umaryn, have you not spells that can render his blade dull, and slow?"
After some hesitation Umaryn nodded.
"Have you not a spell that can increase the lethality of both your hammer, as well as your brother's blade?" Dram inquired.
She nodded again.
They both nodded.
"Clearly you've not considered the fact that it is almost entirely certain that Omniri sent Ivar to carry out the task of New Picknell's destruction first hand? Think long and hard about that brother and sister. Ivar Brodull is quite likely the man that swung the sword that took your family's life."
Umaryn's jaw clenched. That reasoning struck a chord deep inside her, and changed how she felt. Malwynn still seemed conflicted.
"And Malwynn, do not forget that you have learned necromancy. You can rend his flesh with but a touch. You needn't skill at all, merely good fortune. You need only to be close to bring his end about now. But do not mistake; even with all your newfound skills and abilities, killing Ivar Brodull the Wight will not be the easiest of tasks. He is sure to test your mettle, though I am fully confident that you will succeed."
"Where do we start?" Malwynn asked, feeling the tiniest pulse of confidence return.
"There is a very old saying that pre-dates The Fall, Malwynn. It says that good fortune is preparation meeting opportunity. Now we prepare. Our opportunity is soon. And besides… possibly you alone know Ivar's single weakness now. It is a matter of engineering a situation where all your skills can be brought to bear against what he cannot defend against." Dram leaned in, and the planning for the final death of Ivar Brodull began in earnest.
The plan the trio hatched was incredibly simple. So simple in fact that the two felt it would be transparent to Brodull, the experienced and wary warrior. The plot had been developed for weeks by Dram, and it took them three full days of detailed discussion and hands on planning for them to reach a point where they felt it could be attempted.
But they would need to be perfect. Possibly more than perfect.
"I don't know Malwynn. I can't say for certain. I can tell you that if you encounter the Shadow Wolves in the wild, it will be a fight to tell your grandchildren. Assuming you survive them at all," Ivar said as he moved through a complicated routine of strikes with an iron shod quarterstaff. Malwynn watched at the steel tips of the ash staff spun impossibly fast around the giant's frame. Ivar seemed to know proper and precise ways to kill everyone with anything.
"Our father told us stories about them. They sound like awful creatures," Mal clumsily attempted to copy the attacks Ivar glided through.
"They are."
The two repeated the exercise a dozen time as Malwynn attempted to not think about how they would be trying to kill him in a few days. Mal kept running the scenario over and over in his head, and every time in the end his imagination ended the tale with Ivar's fist lodged wrist deep in his skull. The man was impregnable, like a fortress on the coast that waves and armies crashed uselessly on.
"Umaryn and I wanted to ask you about working on our unarmed skills next week? And what do you think about having us combine our sessions if we do that, to free up more of your time?" Malwynn intentionally rushed his questions. He wanted to sound eager, as if he hadn't thought it through yet.
Ivar seemed to take the bait with a grin that revealed all of his teeth. Malwynn thought they looked a tinge blood stained. "Combining the time with your sister seems sensible, especially for unarmed combat. Assuming of course you and your sibling do not distract one another."
"I think we'll manage. Do you think you can teach us to fight with our armor on and off? Is there a difference?" Mal asked this question as he swung his staff around. This was the true question, the one that would determine their chances of success.
"We would start unarmored. Once you had reached some level of skill, we would add the restriction and tactics armor would bring into the equation." Ivar seemed to move his staff around even faster. Apparently his routine was only at quarter speed. Malwynn wasn't pleased with this revelation.
"Fantastic. When can we start?"
Ivar slowed to think, "Next week should work. Have your sister attend what is your normal end of week session, and we will begin."
"You are too kind Ivar."
Ivar agreed unhappily, "I am Malwynn. Far, far too kind."
"He agreed to it?" Dram asked rhetorically later that day.
Mal exhaled, trying to hide the small amount of displeasure he still had. Despite his wish to find and murder Omniri, he still had some fondness for the dead knight.
Umaryn harbored no such good will. She was certain Ivar was in New Picknell the night it was destroyed, and killing him would be the most satisfying thing she could imagine.
Several days later, their plan came to a head.
"We will have one chance at this. If it goes even slightly awry, we bail and try again another day. There is no reason to force this today," Mal said as they rode their mounts through the Low City barracks towards the amphitheatre. Bramwell seemed very excited to be out of the stone stable at Sorber Manor. Tinder was more subdued underneath Umaryn.
"I'm aware Mal, thank you," his sister replied.
"Umaryn I'm serious. You're angry right now. You do very dumb things when you're angry. I've known you since birth and I can see it on your face. You gotta squash this emotion down if we're going to make this happen. He'll see your hatred. Read it. We'll be dead long before we can strike him."
Umaryn brought Tinder to a halt. Malwynn did the same with Bramwell.
"Mal, trust me please. I'm angry, yes. I want this man dead, really dead, yes. But I am not about to be a fool and get my brother killed because I lack patience. We stick to the plan. Now shut up, and let me calm myself down. You're pissing me off." Umaryn eased Tinder forward as Malwynn watched.
He looked up to the bright blue sky of the Graben morning and asked his ancestors for good fortune, and guidance. As he urged his own mount on, he wondered if the ancestors responded to the prayers of necromancers.
True to her word, Umaryn had calmed herself down. When she and her brother started their new training session with Ivar, she was warm, playful and serious all at the same time. Malwynn felt she was very normal.
Or what passed for normal since their lives had been thrown upside down.
"Your lesson today starts under the assumption that you will be fighting wearing no armor, and wielding no weapon. You have been forced into a battle where you were caught with nothing but your wits, and physical prowess," Ivar said. The knight had shorn his armor for this lesson. He would be teaching agility and quickness to the twins. The twins simply wanted his purple plate out of the way.
Killing him unarmed, and unarmored might be possible.
Might be.
"We've left our armor at home," Umaryn said. "We're ready to learn Ivar."
Ivar nodded, happy that the two had come at least a little prepared. "We'll begin immediately then."
The knight wore only a white button up tunic, and a pair of breeches that were both loose and stretchy. His pale white flesh and ivory hair made him seem almost ghastly in the lantern light cast inside the sunken amphitheatre. As he moved it seemed as if he were taking steps between two worlds, half here, half somewhere else.
He was ready for a day of activity as always, and started the pair off the same way he started them off individually, with a series of stretches to loosen their muscles and ligaments.
As the brother and sister started their leaning and stretching the moment to decide if today was the day came. Malwynn tried to ignore the pounding inside his chest as he listened for Umaryn's decision. His regret for having set up the plan to be her final choice was sudden and powerful.
"You know… I'm going to use the restroom before we get started in earnest. I'm sorry." Umaryn looked apologetic as she backed away and left the amphitheatre.
Ivar nodded at her, understanding the need, though he likely hadn't gone to the bathroom himself since his death.
Malwynn continued his exercises as his mind raced with all the possibilities that were only a minute away.
Umaryn shut
the door of the outhouse and sat down. The dark wooden structure stank something fierce, despite the bitter chill of the early spring breeze. Her heart pounded just as hard as Malwynn's was back with Ivar, and she wiped a bead of sweat away from her temple.
"Collect yourself. Calm down. Focus," she whispered to herself, running her hands up and down along the tops of her thighs trying to distract her errant and frightened mind. She had been scared of impending battles before, but this was different. In previous encounters she had been afraid of the unknown. Afraid of what might happen. Today, with the murderous intentions for Ivar that she and Malwynn had, she was deeply afraid because of what she expected to happen. Ivar was a more than deadly foe, and no amount of delusion could sway that reality. After a series of deep breaths her heart settled out of its staccato beat, and she started what she came to the bathroom to do. Inside her new calfskin boots was Malwynn's dagger. The steel blade was finely crafted, freshly forged by Umaryn herself just a month prior as a test of her burgeoning weapon forging. It was the finest weapon she'd forged to date, and she'd gifted it to her brother.
If all went well, it would be the weapon that killed Ivar Brodull.
She began her chant softly, quiet enough that no one happening by could hear her. When she finished, she steeled herself, and hurried back to the amphitheatre before the spell's energy waned.
They were a minute away from someone's death.
When Umaryn returned from the outhouse she had the enchanted dagger hidden in the sleeve of her own loose blouse. When she closed the door behind herself and walked over, she caught Malwynn's eye, and they knew. The twins didn't need The Way to read each other's mind in that moment.
Ivar was executing a special kick from the hip that looked powerful enough to fell a tree. He paid little attention to her as she slid into the center of the stage and let the dagger fall from her sleeve. The hilt thudded quietly on the sand floor near Malwynn's feet and her brother played his part perfectly.
The Wrath of the Orphans (The Kinless Trilogy Book 1) Page 21
