Arise

by Tanya Schofield

  23

  The anteroom of the keep’s chapel was cozy and warm, lit by candles placed in front of polished metal reflectors. There were no mirrors, only a prayer stool facing a tapestry depicting Goddess as the land - her hair as the sea, trees growing from her heart and belly, her legs as mountains.

  “It seems silly, almost, to have a hand-fasting with so much else going on. Don’t you think?” Bashara smoothed the skirt of the borrowed dress. Her bright bouquet of spring flowers had been a gift from Amarta, who had grown them from seeds she’d found. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, I am, I just—”

  “I think it’s a perfect way to spend a snowy evening,” Marina Thordike assured the maid. “We could all use some happiness, and the reminder that there is more to life than fear. Besides,” she added, “it’s easier to warm everyone in one room. Almost everyone is waiting in the banquet hall, they wouldn’t fit in the chapel. Will Lady Bethcelamin be presenting you?”

  Bashara took a deep breath, wiping hastily at her eyes. “She told me that her husband forbade it,” she admitted. “Right before she dismissed me from her service. I am not to speak to her again.”

  “Her behavior has been so odd of late.” Lady Thordike frowned. “She barely leaves her husband’s side. I imagine they will not attend, then. You will of course take a position with us, Bashara? Duke Korith cannot forbid you that, at least, and we are delighted to have you.”

  “Lady?” Bashara was stunned at the immediate offer. “I— I would be so grateful, yes, of course, thank you!”

  “We shall determine how to help our friend Bethcelamin later,” Marina said. “Now let’s get you married, shall we?” She smiled and reached for Bashara’s hand.

  Orrin was waiting with Duke Thordike at the front of the banquet hall, on the steps in front of the head table. Senna, off to one side with several other musicians, began to play as Bashara and her escort entered the crowded hall. Orrin broke into a smile, and everyone turned to watch the beaming maid as she made her way to her betrothed.

  “Are we ready to begin?” Duke Thordike asked Orrin and Bashara when they were standing before him.

  “Almost,” the soldier said. After a whispered exchange with the Duke, Orrin turned to Jovan and Melody with a smile. “There’s plenty of room up here, Jovan,” he said, gesturing to the wide stair.

  A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, quickly turning to murmurs of suppressed excitement as Jovan stepped away from the long, low table, and took a knee before Melody. He reached for her hand, and she willingly gave it.

  When he’d arranged the exchange with Orrin earlier, Jovan had thought it would be the simplest thing in the world. His relationship with Melody was understood. Most people assumed they were already wed, and it often felt like truth, but here, now, on his knee … He looked up into her familiar face, watching surprise and delight war with shyness behind her eyes. Her smile was the only thing he could see.

  “Will you—?” His voice caught in his throat, more words would not come.

  “Yes.” Her response was immediate and unguarded, and everyone in the hall felt the depth of her love for him. Surprised gasps at the sensation were followed by a surge of applause as Jovan stood and pulled Melody up into his arms.

  After some readjusting, the four of them stood on the stair before Duke Thordike. Bashara had pulled several flowers from her own bouquet and given them to Melody with a grin, and the young women stood side by side, flanked by their betrotheds.

  “Now we’re ready,” Orrin told Duke Thordike, who had waited patiently while the two men shook hands and took their places on the step.

  Logannus watched.

  The First Fallen remained invisible, perched in the high window overlooking the Great Hall. Melody’s power was brilliant in his sight, shining so brightly he almost couldn’t bear to look at her. Where Semaj so often absorbed light, she radiated it. What Semaj took and stole and withheld, Melody gave. She was … hope.

  And she was pregnant, Logannus noticed as she stood straight beside the others. Semaj hadn’t seen that, either. Something about this girl blinded the Lich King, he underestimated her at every turn in spite of her continued survival. Which was why he had sent Logannus.

  The celebration continued below him, two couples joining hands and pledging their love— had he done that, once? Memory was dangerous and better kept distant, but the sight of Melody’s hopeful, earnest face shining up into the eyes of a man who treasured her above all else called to mind … Aesme.

  He had not thought the name in a century, and how was that possible? Before he was the First Fallen, even before he was the First of the Five, he had been her husband. The weight of it descended. Aesme had been his life, his heart, his whole world… and Semaj had stolen the memory, as he’d taken everything else.

  Logannus let his rage build, and summoned the others. Wraiths, like him, waiting in the Witherin below. The soldiers on guard wouldn’t see them, the mages wouldn’t sense more than a stray breeze. The undead who served Semaj were good for shock, an endless, expendable battering ram to push through human defenses and drive lesser men mad. Wraiths, on the other hand, were ancient, irreplaceable. Unencumbered by flesh, unannounced by scent or sound, they were nothing more than the magic that had once made them men, twisted by the Lich King into deadly shadows that pulled the life from anything they touched.

  Six he called, fully half of the wraiths under Semaj’s command. Six wraiths surged forth under the rear doors of the Great Hall, bringing darkness with them. They divided as the Duke declared the couples wed, and struck randomly as the lovers at the front of the room embraced. The applause of the crowd covered the sounds of the first screams, but death dealt by a wraith was a death of unimaginable pain. Soon, the only sound was the wails of the dying.

  Logannus watched. He had to know.

  As chaos erupted around them, Jovan and Orrin drew their weapons, stepping together in front of the Duke and the women and searching for the attackers. Duke Thordike had drawn his own sword and overturned one of the smaller tables to give the ladies a place to hide, but Melody had already climbed atop the center table and was standing with her arms spread wide.

  Without song, Melody reached for the currents and eddies of the magic she knew to be there, and sent them out into the panicked throng to illuminate what their eyes could not see. Outlines formed around the six wraiths, making them visible to all. Soldiers leapt to the attack, but their weapons swung through empty air. Sometimes they hit nothing. Sometimes they hit an innocent. The screams were the same.

  The wraiths continued to reach and grasp and feed, increasing in size with each life they consumed, slowed only a little by the hesitant magic of the untrained users. Melody watched as still more people fell, screaming, and her stomach clenched. Each wraith was surrounded by innocents, any attempt to strike one could harm more people than it saved— but she had to do something. Tapestries burned where magic users had thrown fire that passed through their target, steam rose where still others had thrown water after the fire— Melody had to draw the wraiths’ attention.

  Here! she called to them silently. Come to me! She transformed the magic around her into a beacon, extending her own life force to summon them away from the crowd.

  As one, the wraiths abandoned their meal and rose up, turning to Melody and hovering motionless above the screaming, scrambling people. They moved closer to each other, coalescing into a single darkness in the air, a single entity focused entirely on the woman on the table.

  Get them out of here, she sent Jovan, throwing the Great Hall doors open wide with a single twitch of the magic she commanded. All of them, now.

  “Go, go, go,” Jovan shouted immediately, his voice louder than their fear. Duke Thordike and Orrin escorted Lady Marina and Bashara at the back of the throng, but Jovan stayed where he was.

  You too, she insisted, but Jovan moved to stand in front of her, sword at the ready.

  The darkness whirled and churned and ti
ghtened, undisturbed by the flood and crush as hundreds of people fled through the doors beneath it. The combined ancient consciousnesses considered Melody. They remembered her. Semaj had shown them this girl, let them taste her power. Here she was, undefended, her life laid bare before them…

  Their speed and intensity was breathtaking, but Jovan met the insubstantial mass head on. His sword sliced cleanly through, and a thin shriek pierced the air. Divided and enraged, the two shadows attacked.

  Melody splintered.

  In the scant heartbeat while the shimmering dark mass had paused to evaluate her, fear turned to inspiration. She released more of her own life energy, flavoring the magic surrounding her, somehow knowing they would be unable to resist it. When the shadow surged towards her, she divided her attention, splitting her mind between pulling the wraiths to her and surrounding her unborn son with magic not even these ancient spirits could penetrate.

  The scream as Jovan’s sword damaged the wraiths sent painful vibrations through the magic, and Melody could feel their fury - suddenly directed at him. She split her mind again, encasing Jovan in the same power she’d wrapped around their son, just in time to keep one half of the raging darkness from tearing him apart.

  To me, she called again, sending tendrils of magic to tempt the second shadow. The first had already sunk ethereal claws into the power surrounding her, feasting on it as if it were her life - the intensity of the drain was shocking. Melody frowned, for the first time struggling to keep the fragments of herself connected and strong. Come to me!

  The second shadow finally turned from Jovan and lunged at her, circling and nipping at the power but refusing to commit. She needed both of them to be feeding if her idea was going to work … Melody released still more of her life force into the magic surrounding her. It was more than she wanted to give, more than she should, but finally, the darkness took the bait and latched on.

  Melody clamped down, tightening the magic around the wraiths. They barely noticed, focused entirely on sating themselves with the power that tasted so strongly of her. She set her mouth in a grim line and called still more, pulling the magic from everything she could see. She was the center of a whirlpool, drawing the magic to her and channeling it directly into the hungry wraiths, ever more, ever faster, more than they could take.

  Logannus had seen all he needed to see. He slipped through the crack under the door to the kitchen, distancing himself from the temptation of her life force, there for the taking. She would prove herself worthy, and he would return to give her what she required to eliminate Semaj when the ancient wraiths had met their fate at her hands.

  They attempted to back away from the flood of power, but Melody’s grip on the dark things was unbreakable. She held them in place, forcing them to take in still more of the magic, until their thin shrieks became piercing wails. She could feel their fear and their pain— it surprised them, and they fought fiercely to withdraw. She held them in place, held them open as she called more magic from outside the keep, drawn from the blizzard that raged outside, drawn from the surging, swollen river below the city. She directed all of it into the screaming darkness, past the point where they could contain it, and their jagged cries ended in a bright blue flash.

  The magical explosion shattered the windows, splintered wooden tables and benches. It threw Jovan backwards, all the way to the closed doors of the Great Hall. His head bounced off the wood before he collapsed in an unconscious heap. The bodies of the dead were blown back against the walls. The burning tapestries were extinguished. The chandelier crashed to the floor, the sturdy iron breaking, pieces bouncing every which way.

  Melody, shaking with the effort and realization of what she had done, sank to her knees. The bundle of flower stems in her hand - petals disintegrated in the magical blast - fell to the stone floor. Icy wind and swirls of snow made their way through the windows, but she had robbed the storm of its ferocity.

  She looked up, surveying the damage, still aware of the magical currents all around her. They flowed undisturbed now that she had released them, except … There was movement. Something unseen was coming towards her, directly up the central path from the closed doors. Melody forced herself to her feet, trembling, directing the magic once more to show her what she could not see.

  The wraith, insubstantial arms held out to the sides in a gesture of peace, paused. Words echoed in Melody’s mind.

  We need to talk.

  24

  Melody waited, trembling in the cold, as the wraith came closer. What are you?

  I am Logannus Mortendus, he told her. His form shimmered, becoming almost human, a shadow of the man he had been. I am the First Fallen. I am the First of the Five. I am the right hand of the Lich King reborn. He finally stopped, just feet from where Melody stood. He gestured to her swollen belly. He will kill you.

  I know. She did know. Everyone knew, though no one spoke of it.

  Still you carry?

  He is my son. It was as simple as that, in the end.

  The wraith nodded. I could end it. You would live.

  He is my life. Her tone was final. You will not touch him.

  Logannus took a long moment, remembering his wife and his daughter. What wouldn’t he have done for them?

  Why are you here? Melody asked.

  I will help you defeat Semaj, he told her. I will give you what you need. I ask only one thing.

  Melody tipped her head to the side, curious. What is it you ask of me?

  Kill me.

  If Melody was shocked by his request, she did not show it.

  Logannus felt Semaj looking for his mind, furious at the loss of the other wraiths. His measures against the Lich King’s notice would not hold much longer. Time was up. Rather than explain to the girl in words, Logannus leaned forward until he was mere inches from the girl’s scarred face. Without breath he filled his chest, and exhaled his entire existence as Melody instinctively drew it in.

  She knew. In one split fraction of an instant, Melody understood what Logannus did not have time to say. She felt the interminable years, the endless evil, the waiting, the serving. She felt his forgetting and his remembering, and she felt his impossible, eternal exhaustion. She felt his expectation of a painful, screaming death at her hands - and realized that he welcomed it. Along with all of it came words, a chant - it was the key to defeating Semaj, the missing third piece that would complete the work that the Five never finished. Melody was stunned at the gift.

  Will you do this? His tone was urgent, and she knew why.

  Melody began to hum. She lifted her hand to his translucent face and stroked her fingers down his cheek, leaving shimmering blue trails of the magic she was calling forth. She stepped back without taking her eyes from his pale face, still humming, and the magic began to spread across his face, down his neck, and over his chest. Logannus closed his eyes and let it wash over him, spinning and weaving around him, encompassing him utterly. With his head thrown back, his shoulder length black hair blew in the icy breeze that whipped through the Great Hall, and the smile that touched his lips was grateful.

  Melody’s eyes were closed now as well. Everything in her felt drained and weak, but she held herself straight with the magic and pulled power from the remains of the storm, from within Logannus himself. She was no longer humming but actively singing, though there were no words to speak of. Without warning, she stopped.

  Logannus dispersed. It was not painful, as he had prepared himself for. He simply existed within the magic she had woven around him and into him – and then he did not.

  Melody, connected to him through the threads of magic only she could see, felt a part of herself disappear with him. All that remained in its place was his gratitude, underscoring every word of the chant that was now burned so clearly into her thoughts. The enormity of the gift was heavy and humbling.

  She didn’t dare let go of the power yet, using it to keep her exhaustion at bay. Where was Jovan? He had been with her, and then— Melody caught s
ight of him, crumpled face down beside his sword at the far end of the Great Hall, and her heart caught in her chest. Please, she prayed, hurrying to his side, let him be alive. With the force of the magical explosion though, she was afraid to hope.

  Blood had flowed steadily from the back of his head, forming a sticky pool under his face, but he was still breathing. Melody sent healing magic through him, unbreaking his ribs and his back and his skull, blinking back tears as she restored his bruised flesh. She had done this. She had nearly killed him.

  He awoke with a start, remembering only the impact, and rolled over with a groan. He wiped at his itching face, meeting Melody’s eyes. Her face was gray and pale, her red-gold eyes heavy and dim, and her hair … he sat up, looking around at the broken tables, the bodies, and the drifts of snow.

  “Melody?” He noticed the blood on his hand as he tucked the wide lock of newly-white hair behind her scarred right ear. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  She nodded, then shook her head as she finally released the last of the magic sustaining her. The tears came in a shuddering rush, and he pulled her into his arms.

  “It’s all right,” Jovan promised her, counting the dead. They’d have to burn the bodies, he thought. “You’re all right.”

  There’s so much to do, she sent him. She was shaking, not just from the cold. I can’t—

  “Rest first,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You saved a lot of people tonight.” He stood, stretching his neck and back where the memory of crushing pain still lingered. He offered her his hand. “Come on.”

  Melody could barely make it to her feet, so he lifted her easily against his chest. She buried her face in his bloody neck, still struggling to stop her tears. Turning his back on the ruins of the Great Hall, Jovan pushed through the double doors and carried humanity’s best hope for a future out to where the others waited.