The Fenimeldiyaan: Vacation - Chapter 12

“Why, Rita?  Why d’ye kill him?”  Andreas’s voice sounded hurt rather than angry. 

Rita shifted awkwardly in her chair, thinking she would prefer him to rage at her.  “To protect River.  She naively thought that this Lord Parmesan wanted to be friends with her.  She seemed to have fallen for his charming banter and wouldn’t hear a bad word said about him”.

“So based on nothing but yer prejudices against Varagan traders, ye reduced him to ash, along with half a departure lounge”.  Andreas sighed and shook his head.  “Tis lucky that the spaceport authorities and the owner of the liquor store ye trashed ain’t going after ye for compensation.  I managed to convince them that the damage were caused by an electrical fault in one of the lighting circuits.  That may have placated them, but twon’t do much for Lord Parnamiam’s family.  I’ve had to arrange for his ashes to be transported over to Byzarth.  His eldest son only be two years older than ye and he be faced with taking over the running of the household and his Pa’s businesses.  Tis a lot to put on a young man’s shoulders”.

“Like I care about him” Rita snarled.  “At least River will be safe”.

“How would ye feel if someone burned down yer family home with yer parents inside it?” Andreas questioned, still keeping his tone calm and even.  “Would ye feel ready to assume the mantle of Matriarch at yer age?”

“Twouldn’t fall to me” Rita corrected.  “Although I be the eldest, Pa has plans for me cousin Lugaro to take over.  He wants me to be the Spy Master and I’ll make a good one, now that me sorcery skills be improving”.

“Aye, ye seem to have made great progress in such a short time”.  The little Spy Master spoke in a sarcastic, mocking manner.  “From barely being able to conjure a spark to causing structural damage to a spaceport, all in less than a week.  Tis a remarkable achievement”.

Rita lowered her gaze, no longer able to look him in the eyes.  “I only meant to burn the Varagan trash.  The other stuff were an accident.  When I get angry, I lose control of me powers”.

“The Elders suspected as much” Andreas declared.  “Tis why ye’ll have to be kept in a confinement field.  Ye’ll be free to move around the Don and its grounds, but ye won’t be able to use yer sorcery skills.  Loro, Nye and Rem will be giving ye special lessons in controlling yer powers, while Kvyrt will be yer anger management counsellor”.

“I hate ye, Andreas Cesario!” Rita yelled, reaching within herself to project an energy strike at the little man whom she had once admired.  However, nothing happened.

“I will always love ye and protect ye, dear Rita” Andreas proclaimed before translocating out of the classroom.

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Warm arms hugged River, holding her close and sending out calming emanations.  She knew without looking that it was Andreas.  He murmured softly to her.  “Tis alright, I know what happened.  I felt it too, for Morgan be a good friend of mine.  I’ve sent someone to pick him up and bring him here, where he can be given proper care”.

“I’d forgotten his name” River projected.  “Morgan.  I only met him once but he helped me and somehow we formed a bond.  I’d like to help him in return if I can”.

“The Elders be the best people to help him right now” Andreas informed her.  “But when his powers be under control, I’ll arrange for ye to visit him”.

River managed a weak smile.  “Thank you”.

“We’d best be getting that shoulder of yers seen to” he suggested.  “Tis only a minor injury but Loro will be able to sort it out for ye”.

She nodded her agreement and followed him to the infirmary.

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Kvyrt materialised in the street and cast a restoration spell to repair the minor damage which Morgan had caused to the building.  Fortunately, the Vordellan mage had passed out before causing any real harm. 

Knowing that he lacked the physical strength to lift the portly young man, he levitated him off the ground and translocated him to the Donovan Institute’s infirmary, materialising in the secure section where dangerous or highly infectious patients were treated. 

The little man known as the Trickster was rarely fazed by anything.  However, what he saw in the depths of Morgan’s subconscious made him recoil in horror.  At least six of the unquiet spirits known as Lhavazii had bound themselves to the Vordellan.

He reported his findings to Andreas and the Elders, then prepared to sit in vigil for as long as necessary.  “Morgan Shadowbinder should not be left alone under any circumstances” he warned.

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“Feeling left out, eh?” Ursula enquired, materialising in front of Elsa.  “I gotta spread me love around, ye know.  Ye Vordellans be interesting folk, especially young Morgan”.

“Leave him alone!” Elsa yelled, raising the poker and pointing it at the Virian sorceress.

“Or ye’ll do what?”  Ursula directed a small amount of energy at the poker, causing it to turn red-hot.  She laughed when Elsa dropped it.  “I get that ye be jealous of me showering attention on Morgan.  If ye like, I could arrange for ye and yer child to have some playmates too.  Constant companions.  Ye’d never be alone again”.

Elsa reached out, trying to find the missing part of her — the connection with Gerald which had been severed when Ursula had tricked her.  “The only constant companion I want is my husband!  He’s probably searching for me right now.  We’ve both faced worse enemies than you and managed to get away”.

“Fierce words” Ursula mocked.  “But no threat to me.  Even with the help of Ascended Masters, he won’t be able to find ye.  Anyways, I expect ye be hungry, so I’ve brought some food.  Cost me a lot, so make sure ye don’t waste any”.

She proceeded to unpack the sack of provisions.  Most of it consisted of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables, but there was also a meat stew and a pot of what looked like lumpy porridge.  The stew was cold but she used sorcery to heat it.

The smell of the hot stew reminded Elsa of Morgan.  Her thoughts returned to Morgan and Apollo, so she tried to connect with them, hoping that they would be able to sense her better above ground than down in the basement.

She reached for the bowl, intending to throw the hot stew into Ursula’s face.  However, she found that she was immobilised again. 

Ursula cackled and held up a spoon.  “Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.  Still, I need to get some practice in for when I start feeding me silver-eyed child”.

When Ursula was satisfied that Elsa had eaten enough, she returned her to the basement.  “Ye should rest now.  Growing a child takes a lot out of ye”.

“As if you’d know, you barren old hag!” Elsa retorted. 

Ursula merely grinned before translocating away.

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It didn’t take Loro very long to heal the bruise on River’s shoulder. He was always as kind as Andreas, and he left her alone after he’d finished with her. Once she was by herself, she sat there for a long time, cradling her book to her chest. Something tugged at her — a feeling of pain and confusion. Moving like a sleepwalker, she left her room in the infirmary and went further down the hall.

Towards the restricted area of the infirmary.

Once she had arrived, she questioned the wisdom of her actions, but it was too late to do anything about it. Leaning her head against the door, she listened and heard the distressed voice of the Vordellan. “How did I end up here? Who the devil are you? I demand to be released!”

River heard a low voice and instinctively recognised it as the man who had rescued her from Ursula — the Trickster. Breathing in slowly, she knocked on the door and he opened it, looking at her. “Aye?” he said, his face neither welcoming nor dismissive.

River held up her book. “I need to talk to him. Please.”

For a moment, Kvyrt seemed reluctant. But seeing the pleading and desperate look on River’s face, he stepped aside and nodded. “Go on,” he told her.

Nodding her thanks to him, she walked inside and stopped at Morgan’s bed. The young mage had his face buried in a pillow, but when he heard Kvyrt speak, he raised his head and looked at River with astonishing green eyes. It took her a moment to see the red curling at the edges of the green. “River Meer?” he said in a whisper.

To her surprise, she could project to him with ease. “Are you alright?”

Morgan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I … it’s never been this strong before.” He stared at his hands, as if expecting them to burst into flame. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” River transmitted. “You’re stronger than that.”

Morgan smiled mirthlessly. “I nearly killed my cousin in the desert. And I still can’t decide if I hate him or not. Are these thoughts my own? Or is someone manipulating me? It’s enough to drive a person mad.” Suddenly, he was blinking back tears. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. But I always end up doing it anyway. Maybe everyone would be better off if I just … died.”

River snatched his hand, unable to bear hearing anyone talk like that. “That’s not true!” she projected with as much vehemence as she could manage. “There are people who really, truly love you. Don’t let them all down. Don’t give up.”

Morgan was crying now, and the tears seemed to wash the red from his eyes. “It’s too hard,” he whispered.

A strange feeling came over River. She felt cold, and when she looked at where she was holding Morgan’s hand, something was coming out of him. An unquiet spirit was trying to enter her, and she found that she couldn’t pull away. Morgan didn’t seem to notice.

Someone pulled River from Morgan’s grasp — Kvyrt. Gently, he moved her towards the door. “I think you should leave,” he told her.

When Morgan opened his eyes, River saw in horror that red had overcome the green. “That’s right,” he said. “Run, little River. Isn’t that all you ever do? How could such a coward hope to become a Queen?”

River stared at him, the harsh words seeming alien to him. But the fireball forming in his hand was lobbed at her. Kvyrt dissipated the flames and River ran from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. She fled through the halls of the infirmary, ending up back in the gardens. It was there that she tripped and curled up on the grass, sobbing. How could such a coward hope to become a Queen? Morgan’s words hurt like a knife. She was a coward. And she was losing the people she cared about to darkness, and there was nothing she could to stop it.

She just laid there, sobbing.

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Morgan stared at his hand, and it trembled uncontrollably. He grabbed it with his other hand, trying to stop it. “Why do I do this?” he cried. “Why do I hurt the people I care about?” Turning, he buried his face in the pillow again, feeling unable to do anything else. “I don’t want to see anyone else. Not Gerald, not Andreas, especially not Apollo. I just want to be left alone.”

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Gerald wrinkled his nose when they arrived in Bog Town. “Blimey, it reeks,” he commented. Anything to take his mind off of the constant dead-ends they were reaching with his wife’s kidnapper’s relatives.

Apollo made no response. His gaze was distant, and Gerald nudged his arm. “Alright, mate?”

Apollo shook his head. “No … I can’t stop thinking about Morgan,” he admitted. “Gerald, he’s nearly gone over the edge many times, but he’s never … he’s never tried to kill me before. He’s never raised a hand against me. These unquiet spirits who have bonded to him … what if they cause permanent damage? What if he does something he’ll regret?”

Gerald laid a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. They had never been friends, the two of them, but Gerald had become closer to Morgan in the time that they had travelled with Andreas. “He can keep control. The Elders will get rid of those spirits, and he’ll be eating us out of house and home in no time. Ye gotta have faith in him.”

“I’ve had faith in him,” Apollo said. “It’s his faith in himself that’s lacking. And that’s the problem. If he believed in himself, he’d be able to overcome his own doubts. But he can’t, and it kills me.” He blinked back tears, avoiding both Gerald and Andreas’s gazes. “I’ve spent my entire life with him. We’re more like brothers rather than cousins. We’ve fought together, been abducted together, nearly killed, and we’ve traveled with each other for our whole lives. I thought I’d be there for him forever, but I can’t even stand next to him anymore without causing him pain. And it just … it just drives me mad.”

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Elsa was furious. She found an old cracked vase in a box and heaved it at the wall, shattering it. Tears mixed with the bitter curses she was spewing at Ursula. What had the witch done with Morgan? Even worse, what if she turned her attentions on Gerald and hurt him to get to Elsa? She seemed to enjoy tormenting Elsa, and she had the feeling Ursula would enjoy making her grieve.

She collapsed to the floor on her knees, trying to control her raging emotions. Getting frustrated, angry, or upset would not get her out of this mess. Then inspiration struck her. What if that was the answer? Her desperation to reach Gerald had failed to bear fruit, but what if she thought of the most upsetting memory she ever had? A memory they had shared … perhaps Gerald would at least learn that she was still alive and unharmed.

Closing her eyes, Elsa reached into the depths of herself and thought back to the final battle with Damian. The Lightshield siblings had been separated from the others as the demons poured from the open portal. Apollo and Morgan were fighting Set together, and Elaine had gone behind the enemy lines in an attempt to steal the Lightshield back. Elsa and Gerald fought the demons alone.

They had just finished the last of their demons when a knife came out of nowhere. Gerald had pushed Elsa out of his path and taken it in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground. Blood poured from the wound. Elsa screamed his name, kneeling beside him, and he was alive, but only just. She looked up at Damian, his killer, and she had yelled abuse at him. He had simply laughed until she threw the tiny knife at him — the knife that could cut through anything, her last gift from her father. Fatally wounded, Damian had fallen into a chasm and perished.

But Elsa had remained beside Gerald, not heeding her broken oath to never take a human life. She held Gerald in her arms and whispered to him as he lay dying that she had loved him. It was the first time she had spoken those words since Cliff, and it hurt that she would lose him in the same way she had lost Cliff.

Elsa cried in the basement, remembering that horrible day.

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Dorrie Cadogan shivered and pulled her ragged cloak around her plump body, trying to conserve her energy for another attempt at escaping instead of wasting it on heating spells to keep out the harsh cold of the ice cell in which she was imprisoned.  She had arrived on Losintho a couple of weeks ago, thinking that it would be the ideal place to search for teenage girls to train at her island academy.  However, the Losinthans clearly disagreed with her and their Elders had sentenced her to an unspecified term of imprisonment in an ice cell way below the planet’s surface.

She examined the blood crystal which hung on a leather cord around her neck, estimating that she had enough power left in it to try one more blast.  Translocation was impossible due to the strong sorcery wards surrounding her cell.  Instead, she had tried blasting away at the ice and crystal which formed the walls of the cell, hoping to weaken its structure sufficiently for her to break out and find a way up to the surface.  Once she was above ground, she would be able to translocate back to her island.

“Ye’ll never get out that way” a voice spoke, startling her.  

She tucked the crystal back inside the bodice of her leather tunic and spun around.  That voice had sounded horribly familiar, belonging to someone who had a bad habit of turning up and interfering in her plans.

She gave an exasperated sigh when she saw the annoying little Carpathian standing in the cell with her.  Although he only wore his usual outfit of checked suit and leather sandals, he did not appear to be affected by the cold. 

“Come to gloat, have ye?” she growled, glaring at him.

He shook his head.  “Far from it.  In fact, I be here to rescue ye.  Ye be needed back home.  Yer granddaughter has taken over yer island academy, tried to abduct two students from the Donovan Institute and she currently be keeping a pregnant woman prisoner”.

Dorrie gave a bitter chuckle.  “So ye be wanting me help, eh?  I’d lay odds that if Ursula hadn’t taken any of yer people, ye’d be content to leave me here to rot.  Supposing I don’t want to be rescued?  Tis peaceful here, though the cold be harsh and I be forced to live on a diet of hard bread and salt fish”.

Andreas shrugged.  “Suit yerself.  But when them Lhavazii she summoned manage to break free from her control, they’ll be free to roam all over, even ranging beyond the outer limits of the Fenian Galaxy”.

“Lhavazii?  How many?”  Dorrie could not keep the panic from her voice, recalling what had happened when Malachi Shanahan and Vanessa had attempted to control similar spirits many years ago. 

“Hard to say exactly” Andreas replied.  “Six … no, make that nine … nine of ‘em have attached themselves to me friend Morgan.  Ye remember him, don’t ye?  And the Vyrdigaan Elders have detected at least twelve more.  All homeless people and travelling folk randomly killed by Ursula to give her more power.  Of course, if ye don’t care about salvaging the reputation of yer academy, I’ll leave ye to yer salt fish”.

“She killed gypsies?”  Dorrie was outraged.  “Even in the days when me and Ma used to eat human flesh, we never preyed upon our own.  And never in such vast numbers either”.  She grimaced.  “Ye’d better take me back so I can give her a piece of me mind”.

Andreas held out his hand.

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“Feeling sorry for yourself won’t solve anything” Kvyrt told Morgan.  “Nor will giving up.  If you stop fighting, the unquiet spirits within you will take a stronger hold.  Eventually there will be nothing of Morgan Shadowbinder left and they will have control of your mortal shell.  Be that what you want?”

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“River, me love, whatever be wrong?”  The concerned voice belonged to Nye.

She raised her head off the grass and managed to project one word.  “Everything”.

“Surely me lessons ain’t that bad?” he joked, taking her in his arms and carrying her over to one of the benches.

She gave a small silent giggle at his lame humour and looked around for her book.  He handed it to her and she began writing.

When he had finished reading her outpourings, he hugged her and sent out reassuring emanations.  “Tis hard having powers as strong as yers.  Ye’ve learned at an early age that great power brings great responsibility.  But ye can’t hold yerself responsible for every bad thing that happens, even to those ye care about.  People make bad choices, tis human nature and there be no cure for it”.

“That sounds like something Andreas would say” she wrote.

“Tis actually what me Ma told me when I were growing up” he explained.  “When me and Ari were only eight years old, some terrorists set a bomb in Ma’s church.  Our Pa were killed, along with thirteen others.  For a long time, Ma blamed herself for their deaths, since she knew that the terrorists were targeting her along with the congregation.  She survived cause she’d gone outside the church to see if anyone else were coming to the service.  Anyways, the terrorists were brought to justice and Ma got through with the help of our extended family in the desert.  Ye’ll get through this, River, cause ye’ve got good people supporting ye”.

River started writing again.  “I’m sorry to hear about your father.  I never knew that”.

Nye patted her on the arm.  “Aye, well, it ain’t exactly something I share around.  It happened a long time ago and I be over it now.  I like to think that Pa would have been proud of the way me and Ari have turned out, even though he never understood sorcery”.

“I don’t always understand it” River admitted.  “Rita is my friend but she’s losing control of her powers.  Morgan once saved me and now he seems to hate me for no reason”.

Nye shook his head, making his braided hair and dreadlocked beard swing from side to side.  “I be helping Rita, along with Rem, Loro and Kvyrt.  We’ll get her back on track.  And as for Morgan, he never meant what he said about ye being a coward.  There be nine unquiet spirits invading his thoughts and messing with his mind.  Tis best ye stay away from him until they’ve been banished.  Meantime, I have a suggestion for ye.  Seems ye could do with a change of scene.  Would ye like to see where I live in the Horeb desert?”

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“This be the place” Andreas stated, gesturing to a ramshackle cottage.  The wooden fence was broken in several places, the little front garden was full of weeds and several tiles were missing from the roof of the cottage.  One of the windows was boarded up and the others were grimy.

The door flew open at the first knock and a dishevelled woman of indeterminate age with long tangled hair and shabby clothing peered out.  “What ye be wanting?”

“Ye be Detmarah Cadogan?” Andreas enquired.

The woman shook her head, although it was obvious that she was lying.

Andreas then launched into the speech which he had given to Vaunagh, Rikanthah and Ebaron.

“Ursula never done no harm to anyone” Detmarah asserted.  “The way ye be talking sounds like she be in some kind of trouble, but I find that hard to believe.  Anyways, ye can ask her yerself.  She be working at a clothing factory over in Banshih.  Now, if ye be done with disturbing me peace, begone with ye!”

She slammed the door in their faces.

“Should we check out that clothing factory?” Apollo suggested.  “If Ursula is working there, she might be keeping Elsa prisoner in a stock room”.

Andreas shook his head.  “She were lying.  Her surface thoughts were easy to read, which leads me to think that Ursula told her to mention the factory.  Tis most likely another distraction or even a trap.  Let’s go to Elviris, see what we can get from Obadiah Slattery”.

He held out his hand in readiness for translocation but Gerald flinched away as if he had been stung.

“What’s wrong?” Apollo asked, reaching out to steady the troubled mercenary.

“I felt something!” Gerald exclaimed.  “Only for a moment, then it went away.  Might have been wishful thinking on me part, but it felt like Elsa were trying to contact me”.

Andreas patted Gerald on the arm.  “It could have been Elsa, or it could be more of Ursula’s trickery.  If I do a mind-merge with ye, I’ll be able to find out for sure”.

Gerald grimaced.  “Alright, if ye have to”.

“Apollo, ye should join in too” Andreas stated.  “Both of ye know Elsa better than I do”.

A few streets away, they found an area of rough grass behind a derelict factory.  The three friends sat on the grass and Andreas initiated the mind-merge.

“Well?” Gerald demanded.  “Were it Elsa?  It really felt like her”.

“Aye, ye were right” Andreas agreed.  “The emanations were Elsa’s but they were far too weak for me to trace a location.  At least we know she be alive and trying to make contact.  Tis a good sign, me friends”.

“She’ll try again” Gerald remarked.  “Elsa won’t give up.  I’ll be ready for her next time”.

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Frustration was driving Gerald mad. To have felt Elsa so close to him, but have her slip through his fingers, was extremely vexing. Andreas patted his shoulder comfortingly, trying to convey him comfort without getting too … touchy-feely, as Morgan would have said.

Apollo drew his knees to his chest, obviously deep in his own thoughts. He drew his finger through the grass, sighing. “At least we know she can beat the wards, if she can get through to you, Gerald,” he said, though that didn’t seem to be what he was thinking about. “Say — that gives me an idea. If she is trying to break through to you, she must be using powerful memories to get the empathy link working again. What if you tried to do the same? Maybe that would boost the power of the link and get Andreas a clear path to Elsa.”

Gerald looked at Apollo, thinking. “Blimey, ye might have a point. That’s why we keep ye around, Apollo. To think of these things,” he said. “I dunno what I’m going to do. I mean, what I’m going to think up. I ain’t very good at thinking of these things.”

“Neither is she,” Apollo said, “but she thought of something. So you can do something about it.”

  

Gerald chewed his lip uncomfortably, trying not show his discomfort. Emotions were a difficult thing for him to demonstrate in front of anyone, even himself. At least he wouldn’t have to speak them aloud. Closing his eyes, he focused on trying to find a memory. At last, he settled on when he’d murdered his mentor when she had attacked him for a bounty. It was an unpleasant memory for him and brought him great grief. He focused on the horror-struck moment when he realised he’d impaled Reyhna.

Against his will, tears formed in his eyes and he was glad they were closed. At least that way, he could hide the tears.