Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

ROLAND

There was mayhem as Alouette’s death unwove the countless spells with which she had entangled the College of Winter. As Tobias Vambray reclaimed his position as chancellor, Roland watched with care as he interviewed those with whom Alouette had spent most of her time, but it soon seemed clear that they were just as baffled as he had been. Or excellent actors. That was something for the College to sort out by itself.

Roland had retreated to the chamber they had assigned to him, because it was easier that way. He couldn’t solve their problems. And perhaps brooding in here was not his greatest idea but he needed his own space now, to think through what had happened. And what could have happened.

Roland had been lucky. More than lucky. Only the loyalty of Anselm and Olivier, coupled with Vivienne’s charms of protection, had saved him. He knew that.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. He had never thought such a thing would be possible, that he would so easily succumb to an enchantment like that. He loved Elodie and always had. His heart was bound to her, he had thought, then, now and forever.

How had the witch blinded him to that? How had she wormed so easily past his defences?

He had been arrogant, that was how. He had been so certain of himself and his strength that he had never needed to guard himself against someone in that way. He was used to Pelias with its wards and defences, to his position as Grandmaster of the Knights and all the protections that offered.

He was a fool.

What would Elodie say? He tried to imagine her laughing at him but he very much feared she would not laugh at all.

But then he remembered those moments when he had almost heard her, warning him, and perhaps he had not been quite so lost as he had feared. He had to believe that. He trusted in his love. It had seen him through everything and it would again.

But it was hard to trust in so intangible a thing.

He mulled over Alouette’s words more than he would have wished to. She had been behind the attacks on them in Pelias, behind the shadow kin and behind Sassone…

Could it be that the threat she posed was truly gone now? She had mentioned her sister…

A knock at the door to his chamber brought him out of his thoughts.

‘Grandmaster?’ It was Olivier, his whole demeanour furtive and unsure. ‘If I may have a moment of your time? I have…I have a confession…’

‘You do?’ Roland frowned. Of all people, Olivier was the last person he would have thought had anything worth confessing. ‘You may have to take it elsewhere, Olivier. I am no longer the Grandmaster, remember? And as for confessions…I have too many of my own to make right now.’

The young man’s dark eyes flicked to the sword and back to Roland’s face. He wore an expression which said that he had never been so unconvinced by any statement in his life. Roland was still the Grandmaster and that was that. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it again and dropped his gaze to the floor. He was ashamed of something.

Before he could say another word the door to the antechamber opened and Anselm slipped inside. Of course he did. He was never going to be far away and he and Olivier…

Oh, Roland thought, was that it? But there was no need for them to confess that to him. Even if he had not already guessed, there was simply no need.

‘Olivier—’ he began.

Olivier held up both his hands and they glowed, bright and remarkable, flames on his skin. The air shivered around them as the magic flowed through him. Not quite witchfire but something like it. In truth, Roland didn’t have a clue what it was or what it might mean.

‘I tried…’ Olivier began and his voice failed. Swallowing hard, he tried again. ‘I tried to stop it. But ever since we left Pelias, if we’re in danger especially… The witchkind knew as soon as they saw me. The children…they said as much. Tried to make me admit it.’

Roland swallowed hard. Knights of the Aurum did not work magic. They were filled with the Aurum’s light, fought in its name, defended it. But they gave all to the Aurum and held back nothing. This was not normal.

But what was normal anymore? The Aurum was gone.

‘You are a knight and a Paladin,’ Roland said. ‘Touched by the Aurum, blessed by…’

By Wren. Not actually by the Aurum. And that had to have ramifications too. Suddenly he couldn’t finish whatever he had been trying to say.

Olivier shook his head. ‘I was born with it. Mostly it showed itself in small ways, cuts and grazes that healed quickly, headaches that cleared when I touched someone. Vivienne says that it has marked me again, that I’m a healer, but I’m not. I can’t be. I gave it up when I took my vows,’ he protested. ‘I gave it back to the Aurum. What does it mean? If it’s come back, what does it mean?’

Roland had no idea. As he watched, Anselm came to Olivier’s side and wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling the other man into an embrace, holding him close. The flames guttered and went out and finally Olivier dropped his hands to rest against the other man’s arm.

‘All will be well,’ Anselm said. ‘It has to be. Healing is a noble calling, Olivier.’

‘We could ask the chancellor,’ Roland said, though he couldn’t hide the doubt in his voice. ‘The College is meant to have answers.’

‘Are they?’ Anselm asked, with more than a touch of bitterness. ‘They haven’t been very impressive so far. Only Vivienne managed to hold onto her own will, I think. Maybe Tobias but I think that was down to her. The rest of them… Gullible fools and pompous?—’

Olivier cast him a look which reduced his complaints to a grumble.

Light, Roland wished Elodie was here. She’d know what to say, and what to do. And she…she was back in Pelias, trapped in an enchanted sleep with the Aurum and…

With a groan, he buried his face in his hands. ‘The Aurum…’ he growled. ‘It has to be because of the Aurum. Tobias said the old magic was rising, even in people only slightly sensitive to it before, filling the resulting void, but what that means…I don’t know.’

The answers were meant to be here, at the College, the solution to all their problems, a cure for Elodie… Instead, all that seemed to be cascading down upon them were even more problems.

He looked up, at the two men who served him and obeyed him, who had given up almost everything to follow him. He couldn’t let them down.

‘We will find an answer,’ he said at last. But even he didn’t believe it. ‘You should get some rest. And talk to the healer Vivienne, or Tobias. They may be able to guide you, Olivier.’ Because the light knew, he didn’t have the first idea how to help.

‘Knights don’t work magic,’ Olivier said, his voice wavering when he tried to make it strong. ‘How can I do this and still?—’

‘You are still a knight,’ Roland snapped. ‘That will not change. You made vows. You protected Wren. You are more than a knight. A Paladin. Remember that.’

Olivier looked stunned, his eyes wide, but Anselm just nodded. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘I told you.’

At least they had each other. They were lucky in that.

A moment of peace would have been nice, but Roland knew that such wishes were far more than he deserved. Something trembled in the air, something new and unsettling. He looked up, over the heads of his knights, sensing the change. Something was coming, something else, something which made those old instincts for danger stir yet again.

An unnatural wind ripped through the room, even though the doors and windows were closed, bringing Roland to his feet, his hand already on the hilt of Nightbreaker. The two knights broke apart, drawing their weapons as well, the same sense of alarm firing through them. Instincts like flames in each of them, like those rippling over the length of Olivier’s fingers again.

They were Knights of the Aurum, all three of them.

‘Outside,’ said Roland. ‘Something’s happening. Another attack or—’ Or something worse.

Screams echoed through the College corridors and the three men ran towards them, out into the formal gardens where a ring of witchkind were trying to hold back something which came swirling through the clustering shadows. Something huge, powerful, something that rose in a wave and tossed them aside as if they were no more than flowers before a storm.

But the witchkind of the College were failing. They had never encountered anything like this before. Several had already collapsed, and Tobias was barely holding the ring of witches together around the threat.

‘Our wards failed,’ he yelled at Roland. ‘It was like they were nothing but paper. What is it?’

Nightbreaker glowed with inner light, recognising the power of the Nox as it coalesced before him. Roland ducked through the failing lines of witchkind, and charged at the darkness.

Another blade met his, one black as night, iridescent with those blue shadows of shadow-forged steel. The force of it sent a shudder all the way up his arm and down his spine, but he held it there as a knight in armour of the same metal stepped from the darkness.

Roland took a step back as he recognised Finn. Or rather, didn’t recognise him. His eyes were too dark, just black and endless, and his mouth formed a thin, hard line.

Finn moved like a blur, a piece of shadow himself, and the swords clashed again. Roland found himself on the defensive. Finn was faster than before, stronger, and he fought without any hesitation or regrets. No quarter given.

Perhaps he had always fought like this when faced with an enemy. Roland had never been on the other end of it before. But there was no doubt now that he was seen as an enemy.

‘Stop!’ Wren shouted.

Because of course she was here as well. Where else would she be but spinning night to her will, at the heart of any trouble?

His daughter. No matter whatever else she might be, she was his daughter.

Her voice did it, her command.

Finn stepped back, still eyeing Roland, Olivier and Anselm as if he didn’t know them at all. Wren, dressed in a black Ilanthian gown shot with silver and midnight blue strands, her hair wild and untamed, spread her arms wide and the shadows fell away. She looked so small and slender, frail, and yet the magical power obeyed her in an instant. Not a girl, he realised, not in the slightest. Not anymore.

No, she was still his daughter. That was the end of it.

The witchkind were staring at her with a mixture of wonder and terror. They didn’t know what to do, not when faced with her. Few would.

‘You shouldn’t have been able to do that,’ Vambray said in a far firmer voice than Roland would have expected.

‘I’m sorry,’ Wren replied, her voice shaking. ‘It was…it was an emergency.’ She glanced down at the boy huddled at her feet, his body splattered in blood, clutching something in his hands. He bent over it, frozen in shock and horror. No danger there, Roland decided. But Finn…

The danger came from Finn.

He didn’t look like the boy Roland had taken in and raised. He didn’t even look like a Knight of the Aurum anymore. A knight of something quite the opposite, in fact. A figure from old stories, from nightmares, forsaken and forgotten…

Long ago, stories said that the Nox had also had a champion.

What had happened to him?

‘Wren?’ Roland asked, in calm, measured tones. ‘What have you done?’

And to his absolute shock, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.