The Spellmonger's Yule: A Spellmonger Series Short Story Read online

  “Whom I have just secured as a valuable counselor and aid to our cause,” I said, with a triumphant exhale of smoke. “Now, either that will end up a disaster, irritating the Council to the point where they throw me off, and we’re on our own, or it will prove to be a masterful stroke of inspiration and a credit to my divine patroness,” I said, smugly.

  How could she argue with that?

  “It occurs to me, goddess, that Minalan’s risk is a worthy undertaking,” Sire Cei offered, trying to be helpful. “Considering how quickly the Enshadowed responded to her apparent vulnerability, and in such force, one has to assume that keeping her counsel from Minalan’s ears was a high priority for our foe,” he reasoned.

  “You don’t think their motivation was mere revenge?” I asked, considering the counsel.

  My castellan shook his head. “Why rush the process, if it was mere revenge? Minalan, this was a military attack – hastily arranged, poorly executed, clearly opportunistic. But it was a military action. They were relying on surprise and the lack of mundane defenses to carry the day. Had we not been here, still, they may well have succeeded. I suggest a vigorous interrogation of the prisoners to ascertain their precise mission, when they are able.”

  “Agreed,” I nodded, the implications clouding my mind. It implied a far deeper penetration of our enemies into our councils, for one thing. While that paled in comparison to the doom we faced, it still bothered me.

  “More, it occurs to me that if one appraises one’s worth by the quality of one’s foes, the Sorceress has proven her value, and the value of the risk involved in her parole. The Enshadowed have revealed themselves, and in their haste they reveal her importance to our effort.”

  “A small gain, but at the cost of a risk we may all yet rue, Cei,” she said, darkly. “Elre’s unpredictability could be our ruin.”

  “Or the ruin of the Enshadowed,” I countered. “If we find her unpredictable, I’m certain they will as well.”

  Briga’s arms crossed even more tightly. Then she sighed. “It’s only a decade,” she conceded. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “Shall we summon Ifnia and see?” I teased. Briga fixed me with an evil stare.

  “No, I don’t think that would be helpful,” she said, with a snort. “The die has been cast. The pyre cannot be unlit.”

  I got fed up with her attitude. “Look, Goddess, I believe it was your idea in the first place to seek answers about human psychology from the Alka Alon, if you recall!”

  “You’re trying to blame this disaster on me? ” she asked, appalled.

  “You were inspirational ,” I shrugged. “If the gods dodn’t have the answer, then try the Alka Alon. I’m paraphrasing you, but...”

  “I meant seeking out specialists in songspells that...” she trailed off.

  “Who is a better specialist than the Sorceress?” I offered. “You were concerned I was headed toward self-destruction... but as you can see, I’m feeling much better, now that I have a plan. And hope.”

  “What plan?” she asked, suspiciously.

  “Lilastien was helpful in more ways than one,” I explained. “Not only was she able to stabilize Alya’s mind a bit, but she suggested that there was one entity she was aware of that might have the capacity to mend it.”

  The face of the Goddess of Fire grew fearful, like a flame holding its breath.

  “And what forces did she recommend you pursue?” she asked, hoarsely.

  “The long-dead enneagram of the Handmaiden of the Celestial Mother, entombed in the Ghost Rock veins beneath Anthatiel.”

  “Olum Seheri,” she corrected me. Reminded me. She looked dazed. Blanked.

  “That’s what they call the place, now,” I nodded.

  “You know one of the worst things about being a divinity?” she asked, softly. “Not having anyone superior to swear by. Ash and cinders, Minalan, are you mad? A raid on the Necromancer’s new fortress? To ressurect the shade of an ancient monster?”

  “A raid, disguised as a rescue mission, designed to gather intelligence on our greatest foe toward his eventual downfall,” I corrected. “Hopeless odds, implacable foes, a thousand obstacles, and titanic forces at play,” I added, foreseeing her objections. “And if all goes well, we’ll rescue a princess along the way.”

  “I pledge to you, Goddess, we shall not fail!” Sire Cei said, resolutely.

  “It is not your failure I fear,” she confessed, guiltily biting her lip. “It is your success.”

  “You don’t want the princess rescued?” he asked, confused.

  “She’s irrelevant,” Briga dismissed with a toss of her hair. “What I fear is the successful recovery of such a potent force... and what might be done with it.”

  “I’ve already got the bloody Celestial Mother chained up in my basement,” I said, softly. “What matters if I gain her servant?”

  “To me? Not much. To the Vundel... oh, Minalan, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, sadly.

  “Still making it up as I go,” I assured her. “You think its ill-advised?”

  “I think it is a risk that dwarfs the parole of Elre,” she said, resigned. “Your chances of failure or death are high.”

  I snorted. “Everyone thinks it’s fun to be a wizard until it’s time to do some serious wizard stuff.”

  “Do we have your blessing then, Goddess?” Sire Cei asked, hopefully.

  “The last time she did something like that, we got the Everflame and the Snowflake,” I reminded him with a chuckle.

  “At least he’s considerate enough to ask!” she chided me. “For what it will be worth? Yes, my mortals, you have my blessing. As if it will make any difference!” She raised her hand and both Cei and I were instantly enveloped in heatless flame. It died as quickly as it appeared. It was kind of terrifying.

  “You’re blessed ,” she shrugged, annoyed. “You’re also probably screwed .” She left in a far more flamboyant and impressive burst of flame.

  “So that was... a real goddess,” Sire Cei said, as the flame faded.

  “It was,” I nodded, carefully tapping out my pipe on the heel of my hand. “A real, really annoyed goddess. One you were foolish enough to make a promise to. And secured a blessing,” I admitted.

  “That was... strange,” he observed, his eyes a little glazed over. “I never in my wildest dreams expected to have such an encounter before the afterlife!”

  “You get used to it. You’d better. This place has been traditionally favored by the gods. And Sevendor is visited on a regular basis, as I’ve told you. Now that you’re a legitimate heroic figure, you’re going to be attracting more divine attention. Just like I did with magic.”

  “And you don’t find that disturbing?”

  I put my pipe in my pouch. “My ability to be disturbed was injured the moment I met Shereul, face-to-face. After that, I just tried to accept things as they came.”

  “And that’s helpful?”

  “It’s pragmatic. I try not to think about it too much. I’m not often successful. Can you see to our prisoners? I’ll interrogate them later, I think, but for now see if you can get our troll friend to set up a prison somewhere in the compound and guard them.”

  “It shall be done,” he assured me.

  “As for me,” I sighed, “after a fight and a divine intervention, both before dinner, I think I need to bring our hostess up-to-date on events. And start planning our strategies. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Merry Yule, Minalan,” Cei said, warmly, slapping me on the back.

  It was Yule. I’d almost forgotten.

  As he turned around to take charge, I gave the universe my gratitude for supplying me with such a stalwart friend. Sire Cei was more than a castellan and loyal vassal. He was more than a hero. He was the kind of man who held firmly to simple beliefs, and one of those was support of his folk. His kin. His family. For whatever reason, he’d included me in that, and I felt honored.

  It started to snow again by the time I made
it back to the Tower of Refuge, and the place looked merrily whimsical in the shower of flakes. I told the anxious folk at the doors of our victory at the gate, and gave a few suggestions for the defense of the place, before I sought out Lilastien.

  She was once again observing Alya, while she took notes on parchment and referred to her tekka device. She wore her white coat, and had added a white mantle over the top of it. It was odd, seeing an Alka Alon writing – much less making use of tekka – but when she looked up she appeared encouraged.

  “Minalan! Where have you been all morning?”

  “Defending your domain,” I explained. I told her of the encounter with the Enshadowed, and she looked genuinely distressed.

  “I haven’t had to concern myself with that sort of thing in centuries!” she said, sadly. “My people are not warriors. I can protect them, some, from such incursions, but...”

  “I’ve hired your former jailors, the trolls, to fill in for now. But I think it would be helpful if you had some warriors present, too. Say... a few seasoned warmagi, eager to learn from your research... and maybe a settlement of Tera Alon? They’re seeking refuge, and this place is closer to the front lines than Sevendor.”

  “That would be intriguing!” she agreed, smiling. “I suppose a defensive action is sufficient excuse for your absence, then.”

  “If it wasn’t, then the dressing-down I just got from Briga would serve. Our Lady Of Perpetual Combustion was not happy with the deal I forced on the Council. Even less so of my plan to raid Olum Seheri and recover the Handmaiden.”

  “She fears the attention of the Vundel?”

  “How could she not? Once we raid Olum Seheri, the war is going to heat up again. If it gets too hot, the Sea Folk are going to take note. But that’s going to happen anyway,” I explained. “Shereul and Korbal are preparing to come after us and we’re going to resist. This way, at least, we take the initiative. It’s the best choice, strategically. Especially if we can wound them in the process and disrupt their plans.”

  “It will take a delicate hand to penetrate that place, if Korbal has taken control of its defenses.”

  “I have a party scouting there right now,” I offered. “A squadron of warmagi is gathering some initial intelligence. When they return with a report we can start to assemble a real plan.”

  “You will need several such efforts,” she agreed. “And a council of skilled magi... resources...”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I dismissed.

  “Well, I’m glad you escaped both mortal peril and divine displeasure,” she said, gathering her parchments. “I have some excellent news! Alya’s neuropeptide levels are starting to approach normal levels – slowly, but it’s happening. While there has never been an established correlation between neuropeptides and enneagramatic cohesion, the theory is sound and there are several suggestive observations that support it.”

  “Well... good...” I offered, not understanding a thing she’d just said.

  “It’s as if... well, perhaps this will be a helpful metaphor: when Alya arrived here, her brain was essentially a big tub of cream, with a few flecks of butter floating in it. After I worked on her and gave her a basic framework, she started to heal. But it’s... slow,” she said, reluctantly. “Slower than I’d like. But... encouraging.”

  “What does that mean, in practical terms?”

  “We’ll really only know over time,” she said, cautiously. “But I’ve noted improvement since yesterday. She’s more observant, more aware, and more reactive to her surroundings. She’s using the chamberpot on her own, which is a relief to the sisters who care for her. She’s understanding simple commands. She’s sometimes obeying them. Or at least trying to. Her cognition is still rudimentary. Speech still eludes her, I’m afraid. Her memory... well, one day at a time,” she said, with a faint smile.

  I watched her awhile, from the gallery, as she slowly walked through the garden again. Her nurses were nearby, but were allowing her to explore the way you might introduce a kitten into a new place.

  Alya seemed entranced by the snowflakes descending on the landscape. Her eyes tried to track them individually, but she soon learned the futility of that. Then she trailed her fingers in the accumulated snow from the day before where it lay atop the stone planters. She examined the flakes on the holly bushes, where the deep red and dark green contrasted with the bright white snow. Her attention was absolute, as if she was desperate to find meaning or purpose in the experience. If she felt the cold, she did not show it.

  “That’s much more responsive than yesterday,” Lilastien observed, hopefully. “See how she’s so invested in the detail? That’s excellent! This morning she noticed her shadow and spent ten minutes exploring it. She’s starting to experience, again. Hopefully, she’ll retain it – that’s critical. But I’m optimistic, based on some other things. Retention of previous experience, perhaps, but there’s no way to be certain. She knew how to use a spoon, this morning, though,” she said, enormously pleased. “No one showed her. That was a very encouraging sign! Any time little things like that come back, it’s that tiny pat of butter getting a little bit bigger.”

  “But there’s still a lot of cream in the churn,” I said, trying not to be too hopeful. I was desperate for hope, and so far I’d done everything I could possibly do to find it. But I also needed to be rational and realistic. Using a spoon or going potty was not the same as having my wife back.

  “Oceans of cream,” Lilastien conceded. “I’d like to keep her here for a time so that I can evaluate her condition and consider other treatments. I’m just getting started on this case, and there might be other approaches that could speed her healing. In time, with care, her cognition will continue to improve, I think. But it will be based on her experiences since the... accident. Not her original personality, unfortunately.”

  “The Handmaiden is her best option for full improvement,” I stated.

  “As far as I can theorize? Yes,” she agreed. “Even then, there are no guarantees. Once we had it, we’d have to find a way to employ it.”

  “Then I’ll get her the Handmaiden,” I nodded, as I watched her smell the snow. She seemed delighted. “The rest is just a problem I haven’t figured out yet.”

  “You should go see her,” Lilastien encouraged. “She liked that, yesterday, I think. And the more familiar she is with you, the more likely she’ll incorporate portions of her personality associated with you. In theory,” she added.

  I wasn’t concerned by the theory – I wanted to see how Alya was doing.

  The snow crunched under my boots as I joined her in the garden. She looked up and studied me as I approached. There wasn’t exactly interest, there, or even recognition, but there was... awareness. After months of blank stares, it was a relief to see that much.

  When she’d eventually decided that I wasn’t a threat – or just lost interest – she went back to absently trailing her fingers through the snow, and rocking her body gently back and forth as she stared up into the snowy sky.

  It wasn’t a lot... but that glance of awareness was the best gift I’d been given.

  I couldn’t help myself – I knew Alya, as I knew her, was not really inside her head, anymore, but seeing that tantalizing glimpse of awareness propelled me to embrace her. And kiss her.

  She accepted the hug with utter passivity, reacting only enough to ensure her balance. The kiss... her lips were stone, unresponsive. Her eyes barely registered the event.

  “Merry Yule, Alya,” I whispered, as her eyes stared at me... but saw me.

  I slowly turned away and let her return to her playing in the snow. I was heartbroken for how much she had lost, but grateful for the few crumbs she’d recovered. And I’d fight to gain more. I would not relent until it was done.

  I suppose I was walking slowly, awash in my own thoughts, so the attack took me by surprise. With no warning, my neck exploded in a frozen shower as a snowball was hurled into it. I whirled around in shock and surprise at the unexpe
cted assault... and realized with wonder and astonishment that it had come from Alya.

  Who was smiling.