Chapter 38 | Magnus

Chapter 38

Magnus

RAVINICA HAD A PRICELESS gown splayed across the main bed when the six of us emerged from the hot springs room.

It had taken us nearly an hour of recovery after the intense mating session we’d had. I couldn’t take my mind off it, or my eyes off Ravinica. Only once we were done, spent, and heaving for breath, did it dawn on us how depraved and ludicrous we’d become. How ravenous we’d been in each other’s presence, finally able to consummate something that had been in motion for a year.

Ravinica Lindeen had her family. In her mind, we had rescued her from her pedestrian life living an insignificant existence. Rescued her from her wicked stepfather—a man all of her mates wanted to slay—and her mother’s vindictive wishes and her half-brothers’ cunning.

Silvermoon had replaced the dead weight in her life with people she loved. In doing so, becoming part of her pack, I had discovered how deep my feelings for her truly went.

I would go to the ends of the earth, commit horrible atrocities without batting an eye, for her sake. She only need ask, and I would cut a man’s throat and not blink twice, if it was what she needed.

That kind of visceral attachment and obsession was dangerous, probably unhealthy, and certainly something I’d never felt before. It alarmed me . . . because it made me feel things I’d never felt, too.

When you cared for no one, you didn’t care what happened to you or anyone else. That was why everyone thought I was psychotic—because I had gone through life uncaring .

But once you found your person—that being you can’t live without—then everything mattered. The sensations and emotions running through me were too big to ignore now.

She had changed me, this half-dead bloodrender, scarred and ugly and twisted. Just like she had changed the others.

With these new emotions rolling around in my belly, there was something else I needed to do. We had gotten the fun out of the way, the coupling that needed to happen before we could move forward as a unit.

Ravinica had Lady Elayina to see. The others said they would go with her, and Rav bit her lip anxiously. I could tell she did not want to burden them with more work, and wanted Grim, Sven, Arne, and Corym to rest. Perhaps she simply wanted some alone time with the ancient half-elf from the cave-tree in the Niflbog.

The others wouldn’t allow it. After everything we’d been through—after getting separated from me and nearly losing me when I first escaped the Dokkalfar—no one was going to let Ravinica out of their sight again.

The stakes were too high, the dangers too great. We didn’t know the Ljosalfar well enough to trust them.

I felt content knowing she’d be in good hands with those four. I begrudgingly told her I was needed elsewhere for a short time, and she stared at me with those dark gold eyes and nodded, understanding.

The girl cupped my gaunt cheek, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed me lightly.

“Ravinica Lindeen has her family.”

My own words cycled back to me.

And I must reconcile with mine.

I took the short walk from the spring-hold to the recovery den where Zentha had taken Kelvar the Whisperer.

Our dwelling was located in a circular town square. Other shops, buildings, and green-roofed structures lined the cobblestone road next to our lodge. In the center, a grand elven statue, copper in color, struck a fierce battle pose. The statue was nude, with a resting cock—which I only noticed with some peculiarity because the statue also had breasts.

Letting out a hum of acknowledgement, I realized this must have been a symbol of one of the spirits Corym had talked about, an in’kylin , or intersex elf. Perhaps it was even the monarch here, Vaalnath.

The weather was balmy and serene in the nighttime hours. Unlike the green-hued daylight, night was bathed in purple and silver, much like Midgard. Two moons straddled the sky overhead, one to my right, and a smaller orb left.

In front of the recovery den, two blue-robed elven ladies waited, dressed in their skimpy leg-slit dresses with their hands clasped in front of them. Despite them wearing the garb of healers or handmaids, I suspected everyone in Heira could fight, and that these women were guardians of the infirmary just as much as they were nurses.

I stopped in front of them, clearing my throat. I probably could have used a translator before heading over. “I am here to speak with the human man brought in a few hours ago. The one with the long dark hair and dark clothes.”

The woman to my right smirked. “We know who you speak of, round-ear,” she said in a slightly accented tone. Honestly, her accent was less pronounced than Corym’s, which I found interesting.

Shooting her a quick smile, I said, “Right. Probably don’t have too many humans stopping by the hospital here.”

“Maybe more, now that the portals have opened.”

After a slight nod, the leftmost woman stepped and led me into the building. It was a three-story affair—the buildings on this mountainside were built vertically rather than horizontally. Rather than squat longhouses like at Vikingrune, this place had crammed structures together in their limited space by building up rather than out.

Inside was a bare place, devoid of the lavishness our spring-hold had. The walls were gray, the floor was marble and squeaky-clean, and our boots clomped loudly and echoed off the high walls.

We took steps to the second level. The maid stopped at a door. Bowing to me, she said, “Inside, varus .”

Before she could retreat, I asked, “Um, how . . . is he?”

She looked at me blankly. “He will live. Recovery may be slow. Our green magic was used to extract the poison from his liver, where he had been pierced. The physical damage was extensive, and that is what needs rest in order to heal.”

“Green magic, right,” I muttered, nodding, not knowing what that was. I assumed it was the elves’ natural magic that dealt with the forests and spirits. “Thank you.”

She nodded and left me alone at the door.

I knocked.

A gruff voice called out, “Ladies, back so soon? I thought I bored you to death already.”

I snorted and pushed the door open.

Kelvar’s smirking face flattened. “Oh. It’s you.”

Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me and stood over his bed. The room was a hospital room like any other, bare and ordinary.

It seemed even healthcare could not escape the constricting dullness of Midgard, and had gone extraplanar in its reductive qualities. That was to say, hospitals were not impressive even in other worlds.

Then I remembered these people lived a life stuck in the Dark Ages, medieval and old, with carts, horses, and the like. When I compared this sparse, clean room with that, I decided it was much more impressive because of how modern it looked compared to everything outside these walls.

“Are you just going to stand there like a fool, drooling off into the distance, boy? Or are you here to pry questions out of me?”

I blinked and looked down from the wall to Kelvar. My face was empty of emotion. I took in my “father,” trying to decide if I believed it. He was shorter than me, yet with a similar bone structure. Gaunt face, slender body, a bit older and more wrinkled, with bags under his eyes. His hair was black while mine was nearly crimson—a rare shade of auburn not seen naturally in most people.

“I want the truth, Whisperer.”

He repositioned himself on his bed, facing me more completely, partly on his side. He winced when he moved, and I noticed him favoring the side where he hadn’t been stabbed. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his middle.

“The elves saved your life, you know,” I said.

“I’m grateful to them for it.”

“Will you stop hating them? Your allegiance is to Vikingrune, and we know their viewpoint on Ljosalfar.”

“Why do you care if I hate the elves or not?”

“Because Ravinica does. In case you haven’t noticed, she does not wish to continue the centuries of hate our people have shared with the elves.”

“Aye, she wants to bring them together.”

My brow furrowed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You don’t know what I know, boy.” His gray eyes sank, averting from my body.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then tell me.”

“About the elves? Or about what you truly came here to discover?”

“Let’s start with that. You said you’re my father. How? I snuck into Mimir Tomes my initiate year and found my listing in the record books. Fell McKordan was my father. It’s in my surname, for fuck’s sake.”

I didn’t tell Kelvar that Ravinica had also been sneaking into Mimir Tomes with me. That was a delicious secret best kept between the two of us.

Kelvar’s lips thinned. He gazed hard at me, reading my face—and finding nothing, undoubtedly. I wondered if he was gathering the courage to finally speak to me about something that made him uncomfortable, or if he was deciding where to start or what to include.

After a lengthy pause, he spoke slowly.

“Do you remember when I tossed the shadowcloak on you to avoid getting seen by Tomekeeper Dahlia in Fort Woden? You were running around like a madman after you escaped the bloodletting tests.”

“Of course I remember.” I lifted my fist and put my chin on my knuckles as I recalled that heart-pounding escape. “I asked why you had helped me, and you said it was because you’d made a promise.”

“The promise I spoke of I made to your mother.”

My eyes widened, the first signs of surprise.

Kelvar stared off, away from my face and up to the ceiling. A faraway look overcame him, trapping him in some sort of trance or dream. A small smile tugged the corner of his lip. “Liviana Brydeen,” he said dreamily, barely whispering the words. Then, his face became hard and serious when his eyes locked with mine. “The love of my life.”

I felt a story coming on, so I grabbed a stool off to the side and dragged it over, taking a seat. “My mother, Liviana Brydeen, was married to Fell McKordan.”

“Yes, the records would show that.”

“You’re telling me their marriage was a lie?”

“The marriage was not a lie,” he said, lifting his hand from the bed, twisting his wrist vaguely. “It was not love, either.”

Frustration shot through me. “Many people get married for reasons other than love, Kelvar. Even someone like me, who has just discovered love for the first time, knows that.”

“Yes, but the problem is, boy, your mother loved me . And I her.”

I readjusted my weight on the stool. I wasn’t sure what was more shocking: learning my mother and Kelvar loved each other, or that anyone could love the Whisperer at all.

That had not seemed like an emotion Kelvar could feel. Certainly not when his expertise was torture, skullduggery, and rooting around in people’s minds, stealing their dreams, memories, and thoughts.

He chuckled, then coughed and lay back against his fluffy pillow. “You are surprised anyone could love me.”

“Did you read my thoughts to realize that, or is the expression on my face that obvious?”

He smiled. “I was not always this way.” The smile faded. “In fact, it was your mother who made me this way.”

When I crossed my arms again, I lifted my legs and propped my boots up on the stool’s legrest under me. “If we keep at this back-and-forth, Kelvar, it will be dawn by the time your story is finished.”

“Don’t be impatient, Magnus. You think this is easy for me? Telling a secret I’ve not spoken about in over twenty years?”

I inclined my chin, suppressing a sigh, and let him have his moment. Even if I was feeling impatient and aggressive—wanting to deny everything he said—I would allow him that.

I thought, Is it so bad, though? Learning Kelvar is my father? It’s not like Fell McKordan was an upstanding citizen to admire. I never even met the fucker, because he abandoned me before I was born.

At least that had been the going theory. My fragmented memories of my childhood had always muddied that part.

“I loved your mother and she loved me,” Kelvar explained again, “but she was married to Fell. That part is true. He was a violent man, and Liviana quickly learned she had made a mistake in tethering herself to him. So she sought love, affection, and care elsewhere.”

“In your arms.”

Kelvar nodded slightly. He steepled his hands on his chest, staring up at the ceiling. “In time, our affair became riskier, as it does when you love someone as fiercely as we did. And then she got pregnant.”

With me , I thought, wondering if that was the end of the story.

I knew it wouldn’t be. Otherwise, why would Kelvar have kept it a secret my entire life? Many babies were born out of wedlock, from unscrupulous behavior, and this hardly even fit that. If Fell McKordan truly had been abusive and violent, then I did not blame my mother at all for finding solace in the arms of another man.

“During the pregnancy, we had a conversation. Liviana told me to protect our baby at all costs, and I promised I would. At the same time, it irked me, because she sounded defeated when she said it. I detected something amiss.” Kelvar’s brows twitched, a knot forming between them. He seemed lost to his memory, recounting it as if he was there again.

It hurt him to tell. That much was obvious by the pained, almost confused expression on his face as he stared up at the ceiling. The way he blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears.

“I had made another promise to Liviana once before, to never invade her mind. I happily obliged . . . until her cryptic vow. I broke your mother’s trust by using my mindshaping powers to find the source of the danger Liviana thought she was in. What I saw pained my heart, yet also made me furious. At the time, I was a student attending a faraway school to hone my craft, called Shadowblade Academy, so it was a great trek to return to your mother in Iceland.”

He paused, opened his mouth to continue, yet no words came out. Clearing his throat, creases formed along his forehead.

I watched with pity, feeling a rush of emotions—the same ones Ravinica had awoken in me: shame, sadness, anger, guilt.

Granted, I had not been born yet during this. Why would I feel these things, when it was Kelvar’s life and Liviana’s life, and I had no say in it? Perhaps because it involves me, and is my genesis story I’ve never heard before. After all these years, I’m finally discovering the truth . . . and it’s an ugly one.

“. . . When I made it back to your mother, I was too late.” Kelvar closed his eyes. “Your mother was already dead. Had been for days, Magnus. The next part, well . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You don’t need to know the details.”

“Tell me,” I growled through gritted teeth, leaning forward. “I deserve to know everything , Kelvar.”

He looked at me then, a sadness in his face that made him look weaker than I’d ever seen. Stuffed under a blanket in a hospital bed, eyebrows arched helplessly, the Whisperer I stared at was not the same threatening, menacing legend of Vikingrune Academy.

Kelvar let out a small sigh. “You had been ripped from her womb. Fell had left her in a bloody state I still have nightmares about every night, ribs pried open, belly cut. A depraved act that brought out the terror and wrath inside me.”

“Gods,” I found myself croaking. “I am . . . sorry.”

He snorted, as if he was disgusted with himself—with his moment of weakness and vulnerability. “The danger I’d found in her mind was the thing that scared and baffled me most. Because she had planned to tell Fell McKordan of our adultery. Hoped to reconcile with him, which I knew would never happen. And so, he killed her and stole you.”

“What became of me?”

“Fell recognized your power, your bloodrending, early on. Perhaps from how you survived that long in Liviana’s dead womb. I don’t know the specifics. But I do know he handed you over to Vikingrune Academy, so they could run their tests. In return, Fell likely received money, accolades, or the reassurance he’d never have to put eyes on you again. You were a reminder of his failure as a husband, after all.”

“Right.” I scoffed, sitting back, shaking my head in disbelief. “An infant as the enemy. An infant as the problem. Not his violent tendencies or inability to love.”

“Indeed. Deluded men rarely understand the problem is inward—that they are the issue and the enemy.” He chuckled, shooting me a sad smile. “If they understood that, there’d be no need for therapists and marriage counselors.”

I returned his bleak smile, even though I felt dead inside. Deader than usual. It was a broad statement, and I knew he’d made it in jest trying to liven up the situation, but there was some truth to it.

“So I ended up in Vikingrune as a babe,” I said, bringing us back to the story. “What did you do?”

“For five years after Liviana’s death I went into a hallucinatory psychosis. Put simply, my mind broke.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Even worse for a mindshaper. When you hear the thoughts swirling around, talking to you, it’s difficult to ward yourself from them and not drive yourself crazy. After your birth, I could not differentiate truth from fiction—the voices in my head from the real ones outside me.” He paused, frowning. “I also went on a hunting trip, Magnus. Dropped out of the academy. While I was crazed, I spent every waking hour hunting Fell McKordan. Discovering the truth.”

“How did you discover the truth about what happened to me and where he’d sold me?”

“Torture. The thing I’m best at.” Kelvar smiled like it was nothing to admit such a thing. “I turned from a loving man into a despicable fiend.”

“You were a man in grief , Kelvar.” My voice rose for the first time, throwing my arms out. “You did what most people in mourning have dreamt of, but never had the balls to do!”

He sighed. “I flayed the man’s skin from his body, boy. Castrated him. Scooped his eyes out. Left his tongue in, because I needed his words, but I kept him alive during all of it, for months after. There’s no honor in that.”

Baring my teeth in a wince, I pulled back. “Okay. That’s a little . . . extreme.”

He barked a laugh then gave me another easy shrug. “I got the information I needed from Fell McKordan. He died, I went to Vikingrune Academy, broke you out, and then shadowed your mind. I felt it was in your best interest.”

I waved my hands. “You shadowed my mind? What is that?”

“Similar to a fae’s glamour. I blocked your memory of your earliest days with a combination of my mindshaping and shadowweaving abilities. I became close with a few people, such as Hersir Sigmund Calladan, and I joined the ranks of Vikingrune.”

“So Sigmund was not the one running the tests on me, I take it?”

“No, no, he was not Gothi at that time. He did not have the power, will, or knowledge of your existence to do such a thing. Otherwise he’d be dead, like the initial scientists who worked on you.”

I tilted my head. “And if he was dead . . . you would have been Gothi, no?”

He grumbled something under his breath.

“What better way to assure nothing ever happened to me again, hmm?” I pried.

His piercing gray eyes shot over to me. “I never wanted that position, Magnus. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted Liviana!”

With a sharp inhale, I lurched. Fury showed in his eyes, and I wondered if his “psychosis” had led him to the same berserk state Grim dealt with.

Kelvar the Whisperer was already scary enough. But to have him be a berserker, on top of it? Gods have mercy.

“You say you stayed at Vikingrune Academy . . .” I said, trailing off. “Why?”

“To watch you grow. I broke you out of the testing sites and kept you close to the school. You were essentially raised in the underground tunnels of our academy, son. Which is why I place such high regard on the academy itself , not to any person pulling the strings. It was . . . as close to a home as you were ever going to get.”

I nodded, deep in thought. Finally, I understood more about my origins. Just like the rest of Ravinica’s mates, it was mired in grief, misery, and a horrible childhood.

Unlike those guys though, I couldn’t even remember mine. How was I supposed to ever heal, or recover from the intense trauma Kelvar explained, if I never knew it?

Lifting my eyes from the ground, locking them with Kelvar’s unwavering, menacing gaze, I threaded my fingers together in front of me. “I need you to remove it, father. The amnesia.”

He blinked. A sound escaped his lips—choked, clipped. Surprised, because he’d never been called that before, and it affected him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

And perhaps that was all Kelvar the Whisperer ever really wanted from me.

“I know, son,” he replied in a thick voice. “I know.”

He gestured me to him. I scooted forward, going to my knees to get eye-level with him. From his hospital bed, he reached out and put a bare hand on my scalp, closing his eyes.

I closed my eyes too, anxiety rippling up my esophagus like black bile.

“I’m sorry I did not do this sooner, Magnus.” He sighed heavily. “And I’m sorry for what it will do to you. I should have given you a chance to work through this on your own.”

His fingers were trembling on my head.

I lifted my hand, abruptly, and grabbed his wrist with a gentle hold. My eyes were open, his were too, and we stared.

“As you said, you were only doing what you thought was best, Kelvar. Trying to be a father.” I cleared my raspy throat, sniffing loudly to fight back the wave of emotion battering my dead heart. “I do not blame you for the wretchedness of my upbringing. In fact . . .” I gave him a slight smile. “It sounds like you were the one good thing to come of it.”

His eyes never left mine, but his face twisted.

A tear slid down Kelvar’s cheek then, his chin trembling. Unable to form words, he simply nodded in his gruff, distant way.

Then he plied his trade, his magic, his mindshaping—in a new and different way.

And I remembered.