Guild Mage: Apprentice [Volume One Stubbed]

By the time the priests of the Trinity gathered in Akela Kila, winter had come.

Liv amused Rianne by sculpting miniature animals from ice, on their trip down from the top of Bald Peak to the waystone, and using the waste heat to keep everyone warm. She made a wildcat, an owl, and a wyrm, and only realized that she was creating all the forms that Wren could take when her daughter pointed it out.

“I think we should have a saddle made for when Auntie Wren turns into a giant snake,” Rianne declared, as Liv and Keri herded the girl up onto the expanse of white stone. “When is she coming back?”

“Not for a long time,” Liv said.

“We should go visit her, then,” Rianne chattered on. “I want to see the jungle, anyway. I want to see the swimming holes she told me about.”

“Cenotes,” Rei told his sister. “They’re called cenotes. Anyway, you’re going to get to ride one of the hastim right now, so you should focus on that.”

They were a party of fifteen - Liv and her family, of course, as well as all three of her ladies-in-waiting, Kaija and six picked guards, half human and half Eld, and then Arjun. Liv had, to some extent, felt hesitant inviting him; she knew that he often felt uncomfortable even discussing his homeland, after how his family, his jati, and even his betrothed had rejected him. For many years, Pandit Sharma had acted as a kind of touchstone, but after the old priest’s death, even that had gone. But in the end, it had been Arjun’s choice.

“You need someone along with you who is a native speaker of the language,” Arjun had told Liv, when she’d approached him. “Someone who can explain the traditions of the jati. And there’s no one else to do that for you.”

“Tej Mishra will be there,” she’d countered. “He can help us.”

“I remember what Keri said when he came back from the Ratn Parvat,” Arjun had said. “Mishra’s an old man now, too. I’m coming, Liv.” And that had settled it.

Still, it was strange to arrange themselves on the surface of the waystone, without either Wren or Ghveris present. One or the other of them had been protecting Liv for so long that she kept expecting to turn around and see Ghveris’s armored, hulking form, looming at her back, glaring at anyone he judged might be a threat. She still couldn’t make the man’s true face match with her mental image of him, after so many years relying on an Antrian war-machine.

I hope they’ve made it to Clear Water Cenote safely, Liv thought to herself. I hope they’re happy. And I hope I don’t let her down.

Alliance soldiers maneuvered a wagon onto the waystone, drawn by two horses. In the bed of the wagon lay a block of ice, perhaps seven or eight feet long, and covered by a rough linen cloth. When Liv had argued to spare Nighthawk Wind Dancer, nearly two decades ago, she’d promised that he would eventually be judged for his crimes. Now the time had come for that promise to be kept.

It was Miina who walked over to kneel at the sigil for Akela Kila. They could have used one of the students who was on duty, but with the stone so crowded, it seemed a waste. “How many rings?” Liv asked, once Miina had set the sigil alight and stepped back toward her.

“Only half a dozen,” her cousin said. “It was fairly well charged.”

A flash of light, a space in the vast darkness between, and then Liv tasted air that she had not breathed for more than eighteen years. The heat, the smell of spices and frying garlic, even the layers of human sweat and animal dung, it was all so immediately familiar to her. It must have affected Arjun even more: when Liv glanced over to look at his face, he had the look of someone coming home. She knew, because it was the same look that she knew came over her face whenever she returned to the Aspen River Valley.

Past the statues of the Trinity which ringed the waystone, each resplendent with their offerings, Tej Mishra waited, borne upon a litter at shoulder height by four armed and armored ksatriya shoulders. Keri had told her how the general had aged, but seeing him for herself, Liv still could hardly keep the shock from her face. He’d been a powerfully built man, once, strong and vital and confident. Now, his limbs were stick thin, and he looked as if he would hardly even be able to move without help.

Also waiting for them, and standing under his own power, was Bardolf Crosbie, who had served as Liv’s ambassador to Lendh ka Dakruim ever since Keri had appointed him while she was fighting in Varuna. Though Liv had only met him a handful of times in the years since, they’d corresponded regularly by letters sent back and forth through the waystones. He had grown older in the east, and his long beard was streaked with gray, but he looked happy. On the ambassador’s arm was a Dakruiman woman dressed in brightly colored and carefully draped silks, and standing just behind them were two children, just on the edge of adolescence. And behind the entire contingent, waiting in the street, were half a dozen hastim and their caretakers, each animal fitted with riding blankets, bells, and the canopied seats for riding.

“General Mishra,” Liv said, releasing her daughter’s hand and stepping forward. Rianne was gaping, wide-eyed, at the wonders all around her, and Keri kept a hold of the girl. “It is so good to see you again. I hope you are well.”

The old man stretched out one wrinkled, brown hand, and Liv took it in her own. “When you reach my age, you’re never truly healthy,” he said, but the smile on his face was genuine. “Every day that I wake with my wits still about me, I give thanks to the gods for their kindness. And you, Livara, look as young as when we first met.”

“That is flattery,” she said. “I’m not a slip of a girl anymore. You’ve met my husband, I know, but let me introduce you to our children, Rianne and Rei.”

Mishra leaned forward, his eyes twinkling brightly from out of his wrinkled face. “Hello, children,” he said. “What a wonderful treat it is to finally meet you. Welcome to Akela Kila, and welcome to Lendh ka Dakruim - the Land of Tears. I hope that you will enjoy your time here. In fact, Ambassador Crosbie and his wife have brought their own children to spend time with you, and act as your guides. The four of you will be riding together, so that you aren’t troubled by all us old people talking on and on about nothing.”

At that, Ambassador Bardolf stepped forward, reaching out his hand to clasp Liv’s. “Your Majesty,” he said, in a low, deep voice that did not require to draw attention, “may I present my wife, Anisha – along with my children, Jiya and Viraj.”

Rather than take his hand, Liv leaned in to embrace the man, instead. “You’re family, Bardolf. And we’ve exchanged so many letters I feel as if I know you quite well. Formalities in public are fine, but I hope you’ll call me Liv in private.”

She stepped back, turned to Anisha, and kissed the other woman’s cheek. “I wish we’d been able to meet more often.” Then, Liv turned, and looked down at the two children, their features just a shade more pale than the other Dakruimans passing by in the streets. “And I hope the two of you will call me your aunt, and our children your cousins. It’s slightly more complicated than that, but I don’t think we need to be precise.”

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Before long, they had all four children bundled up together on top of their own hastis – a splash of paint on its forehead, trunk curling down to snuffle at Rianne’s hair as she came near, to the girl’s delight. Once she’d seen them sorted, Liv joined Keri, Bardolf, and Anisha in their own seats, atop one of the other animals. The hastim lurched to their feet and set off toward the fortress, and sights and sounds of the city swelled around them, creating a space of privacy just as effective as a closed carriage.

“All the priests have arrived?” Liv asked, getting right to business.

“From Lucania and the Alliance as well,” Bardolf answered. “There’s even an elder from the Red Shields, though the chief didn’t come. Her name is Walking Tree.”

Keri nodded. “We know her; she was one of the three at the Hall of Ancestors when they joined the alliance.”

“And nearly the entirety of the holy jati is here in the city,” Anisha said. Her words were only lightly accented, and Liv supposed that she and her husband had spent many hours practicing Lucanian. Knowing what she did of the Dakruiman jati and their arranged marriages, Liv imagined there to be quite a story behind their marriage; perhaps someday she would even have time to hear it.

“Good,” Liv said, instead, and reached out for her own husband’s hand. “I have things to say to them, and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

☙

Things that, as it happened, Liv spent the entire meal at the fortress considering. While she enjoyed chunks of lamb in spicy sauce, buttered flatbread with garlic, heaps of rice, and a half-frozen drink made from mangos, she marshalled her words. It left Keri and Miina and Arjun to carry much of the conversation, and made her something of a poor guest, but she had a notebook open on the table next to her, a bottle of ink, and a quill.

“Did someone kidnap Liv and replace her with Sidonie?” Miina teased, as the plates were cleared away by junior ksatriya officers. “There’s no spectacles, but I really can’t tell…”

“I’m sorry,” Liv said, with a sigh, setting her quill down to rub her eyes. “I need to strike a balance. On the one hand, I need to be honest with the priests about what I am, and what I learned, and what we need to do. But at the same time, I don’t want to command them as some sort of goddess from on high.”

“Even if that is precisely what you are?” Keri asked.

“I’d thought a goddess would look different,” Anisha Crosbie said, sipping from her goblet. Silver bracelets jangled at her wrist. “You look like any other woman, even if your hair is an unusual color, and you have Elden ears.”

“She can look different, if she wants to,” Arjun said, from where he slouched uneasily in his chair. “In fact, you might want to arrive as the storm, Liv. With this many priests gathered in one place, I think the last problem you’re going to have is everyone doing what you want, without protest. There’s bound to be arguments.”

“I’m not going to cow them into submission,” Liv argued.

“Why not?” Mishra asked. “That’s how soldiers fight best – with a clear chain of command. Why not manage priests the same way?”

“Because of the God-Eating Queen,” Keri said, from Liv’s side.

At the words, she looked down, unable to meet the eyes of anyone else at the table.

“What is that?” Anisha asked, looking around the room. “An Elden story?”

“No,” Miina spoke up. “It’s from House Kaulris messing around with my cousin’s head.”

Liv sighed and looked up. “It was a warning,” she explained. “A vision of what I could turn into, if I started just forcing everyone to do what I wanted. And I don’t want to be that person. Which means I need to persuade, not threaten.”

The words were still spiralling through her head after dinner, when she put Rianne to bed. They were still humming in her mind, turning fast as wagon wheels, when she set her head down on a silk pillow, and Keri curled up behind her, his arm around her waist, his breath tickling the back of her neck while he drifted off to sleep. But as the moon rose and cast its light in through the window, all Liv could do was keep trying to find the right combination of words she could say that would fit like a key into a lock.

☙

There was no room in the entire fortress of Akela Kila large enough to hold all of the priests who had come from every corner of Isvara. In fact, there was no single room in the entire city, and so the morning of the council, all of the priests walked to a great, square amphitheatre just north of the city.

It was larger than the Hall of the Ancestors, with no trees shading the sky overhead, and rather than mere trammeled earth at the lowest point, the entire structure was made from cleanly cut stone in shades of brown and red. According to Tej Mishra, it could hold more than a thousand people.

At Liv’s orders, the first priests to arrive found that a block of ice waited for them, already placed on the lowest level, at the center of the paved square. The cloth covering had been taken away, and it was possible to get blurred and indistinct glimpses of the man within. Keri and Arjun, Mishra and Bardolf and most of Liv’s guards went there early as well, finding places to sit where they would be close at hand should Liv need them. She alone remained at the fortress, with Anisha, who had promised to take the children to a great garden that day. They sipped cups of tea until the bell rang, signalling the turning of the hour.

Liv set her cup down and stood.

“They’ll be here when you get back,” Anisha promised, with a smile. “I know that we don’t know each other well, so perhaps it doesn’t mean much; but I believe you’ll tell them what they need to hear.”

“Thank you.” Liv let herself become the storm.

She blew out from the fortress, down over the hill to the city, where the people of Akela Kila clutched their clothing of thin silk tight against the chill. Great, fat snowflakes drifted slowly down in her wake, and she wondered whether it was the first snowfall the city had ever known. The Dakruiman, after only a moment’s hesitation, shrieked in glee and chased after her in a great pack, dancing, throwing out their hands, and holding their tongues to catch the snowflakes.

When she reached the amphitheatre, Liv let herself swirl about in the air over the block of ice for a long moment. She wanted it to be obvious that she had arrived, and she wanted every eye of every priest, whether they be from the east, the north, or the south, to be fixed upon her. She felt the slightest brush of Keri’s Authority, like his hand in hers just long enough to give a squeeze. Then, she came back to the world, and stood behind the block of ice which contained Nighthawk Wind Dancer. When she spoke, Liv’s voice echoed in Lucanian, Vakansa, Dakruiman and Vædic, all at once. It might not quite be a chorus, but it was a sign all the same.

“Ractia is dead,” Liv declared. “I followed the Lady of Blood across the stars to the Last City of the Vædim, where I ended her before the sight of a dozen gods. I come before you today with two requests.”

“First.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on the block of ice. “Almost twenty years ago, I argued that Nighthawk Wind Dancer had been controlled by Ractia’s magic, and that no true judgement, no true justice, no true mercy, could be done until he was once again free to speak of his actions, his mind once again his own. With Ractia dead, that day has come. I have looked into his dreams, and her touch is gone from his mind. I can think of no better assembly to weigh the truth of his words, and so I leave him to you.”

Liv raised her hand, walked around the frozen block, and then stood before it. “Second. I have stood before a council of the Vædim, and then spoken at length with Bælris, Vædic Lord of Light, the brother of Arvatis.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, up and down the levels of the amphitheatre and around the square. They had known this, of course, most of them: it was the reason that they had all come. But it was another thing to hear it said out loud.

“The Lord of Light confirmed that what the Old Gods did to us was against their laws,” Liv continued. “As partial recompense, he has declared that the bridge to our world is closed for a thousand years. None of the Vædim will come here during that time. And when a thousand years have passed, the way will open again, to the Last City, for any here who are capable of travelling it with me.”

A Dakruiman priest stood. His forehead was painted with a bright splash of blue, and his hair was unbound, long and gray. When he spoke, it was with a heavy accent. “We honor the Lord of Light as a God who stood aside, rather than fight our ancestors; but he is not one of the Trinity. Neither are you.”

“No,” Liv responded. “I am young. Only the second Vædim to be born and come to power on this world. But there will be more,” she promised. “Tamiris gave us the Gift of magic, potential. It is within every one of us here to become Vædim. I will teach, but I need your help. The time for hunting cults is past.”

A Lucanian priest rose. “The time for hunting will be done when every heretic is burned!” A ragged cheer came from many of the human priests, though notably not the easterners.

“Their goddess is dead, and she is not coming back,” Liv declared. “Their prayers will go unanswered. Let them dwindle and die out. There have been enough burnings. Instead, help me. Help me to spread the word of what is waiting for us, and of what needs to be done to reach that place.”

She turned around, looking at each side of the square in turn, and thought back to what her father had taught her, so many years ago.

“It begins by learning to circulate mana in your body…”