“It is time to set things in order,” the Seneschal said. “To usher in a new season. Isic Moussion, I bestow upon you one of the Voided Keys.”
Isic knelt before the Seneschal, shaking his head. “I am unworthy of such a gift,” he said softly.
“With much suffering comes much wisdom, Isic. This is the day I saw when you pledged to serve me. This is the hour I knew would come. You will earn more Voided Keys as you assume more responsibility for governing this world. The keys are mine to bestow upon whom I will. I give this one to you.”
He produced one of the ancient, gnarled iron keys with a leather strap running through the empty part. He gestured for Shion to rise and fashioned it around his waist, so that the key dangled there. Phae stared at him with pride, smiling with pleasure at seeing him finally fulfilling his destiny.
“What shall we do with your brother?” the Seneschal asked. “You must name his punishment.”
Shion looked at the Seneschal in surprise. He stared at the cowering form, shrinking from the gaze of the Unwearying Ones. Phae looked at him as well, seeing no trace of power left in him, no threat to anyone.
“He will be imprisoned,” Shion said firmly, coldly, but not vengefully. “He has a book of the Paracelsus order. A book where he has written all of his means to bind spirits and the will of men and women. All of his cunning. All of his sources of power are contained in this book. Evil cannot be destroyed. But it can be bound.” He turned to face the Seneschal again. “I do not want his memories tainting Phae’s tree. Can you bind his memories to the book, bind his spirit to the book? He is too dangerous to be allowed to walk the earth. He is unwilling to obey any power other than himself. Let him be caged like the spirits he caged. The Druidecht order will forbid anyone from reading that book and we will protect it as our sworn duty.”
The Seneschal paused, staring at Shion. Phae could tell that he was looking into the future, into a decision made and its impacts down to the ends of time. A slow smile crept over the Seneschal’s mouth.
“Phae, you still have the stone your father gave you. The stone that traps a mortal’s spirit. Give it to me and I will use it to bind him to the book you spoke of. It is time to heal the Scourgelands, to restore them to their proper use. To fulfill the oath to build Canton Vaud, the Druidecht stronghold. By the Voided Keys, I revoke the curse tainting the fireblood.”
He raised his right hand, holding his palm toward the cleft of rock overhead. An earthquake rocked the cavern, splitting the dome of the ceiling, shattering the rocks and bringing in the natural light of day at last.
Phae felt something change inside her blood, filling her with peace. She grabbed Shion’s hand, staring into his eyes, beaming at him.
He smiled lovingly at Phae, his eyes crinkling with tenderness and warmth, and then dipped his head and kissed her.
“Maybe the Vaettir are the wisest of all, not the Preachán. They put it best: Love is not to be purchased, and affection has no price.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XLVI
Paedrin’s heart raced with dread and a welling sense of hopelessness. Gusts of wind whipped him off course as he searched from the sky at the ruins of the fortress for a sign of Hettie, Tyrus, or Baylen. Every moment increased the sense of panic. He was too late. The soldiers were scattering like a hive of ants whose hill had been kicked over by an angry boot. Flashes of lightning from the turbulent skies warned him of the danger of staying aloft much longer. A brilliant bloom of blue fire exploded through the haze of mist below and he altered his course, shooting down to it. Flashes of red light came in response and Paedrin saw four shapes, wearing black, advancing on a man trapped in the middle. As he drew closer, he saw the streak of white light connecting the four men, boxing a fifth man in between.
“Closer! Closer! He’s wavering!” came a shout.
A gurgling scream of agony wailed from the midst of the light streamers. Another detonation of blue flame came, toppling one of the arches, and one of the men was crushed beneath the weight.
“Quickly! Don’t let him escape!”
Paedrin saw that the men were Paracelsus and he recognized the magic they used, for he had been entrapped by it as well. The more force used against it, the more force was repelled back. Tyrus was hunched over in agony, trying to get back on his feet. The three continued to lean forward, struggling with each step to draw the net of magic tighter, to immobilize him.
A shriek of curses came from Tyrus next, and he spit at them, screaming again as he tried to counter their magic with his own.
“Almost!” one of the Paracelsus shouted in triumph. “Bring him down! Shoot him! Shoot him!”
Paedrin swept into range from above and plunged the Sword of Winds into the lower back of one of the dark-clad Paracelsus. The man crumpled, his legs suddenly useless, and the spray of light went wide.