Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

“Are you all right, Lae?”

He peered at the placard-the golden moon and stars-and the wrought iron gate, then looked past them at the squalid yard. Tavingras was right , he thought, taking himself back to the first time he’d seen Ismerelda’s house. Those holes where trees once stood, that grass that seemed like it refused to grow. She had used up the essence of it, an Uxidin sorceress trying to survive.

“Lae?”

He took a deep breath. “My memories came rushing back to me. Here, let’s go inside.” Unlatching the gate, he stepped past it, then approached the front door. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

“Do you have a key?”

He shook his head, then took a look around the porch. That’s odd. He walked over to a pot filled with soil, but he could find no trace of a plant or seeds. Moving it aside, he spotted a brass key that must have been there for quite some time because, from bit to bow, it was solid black from tarnish. Though difficult to turn, the key unlocked the front door.

It didn’t take long for the spiders to find their way in. Cobwebs coated the paintings and furniture, and the webs and dim light made it difficult to make out the mural painted on the parlor ceiling.

“What is that?” Valyrie asked, pointing upward.

“A depiction of the Great War. Azura at Azuroth, the final battle between the Uxidin and the Necromancer, Vrolosh.” He blew on the shelves to clear away the cobwebs and a layer of dust. “Everything’s exactly the way she left it.”

“It’s small, but I can see how it could be a comfortable home.” She followed him to the common room, then through the hall to the kitchen. “It was just the two of you?”

“She only took on one apprentice at a time, which is the usual way when privately tutoring a student.” He gazed at the stove and noticed the pan in which Ismerelda had prepared the quiche. “Would you like to see the room where we trained?”

She nodded, and he led her downstairs to the basement. The ashes of the training dummy he’d shot still littered the floor, along with the one Ismerelda had split in two. He could almost see his teacher seated at the larger of the two desks. He smiled. “I would like to share something with you.”

“Yes?”

“I will show you what has passed here, and though I could make an illusion, I want you to truly experience it. Do not be afraid.”

He pulled out his scepter and focused on his last memory training in that cellar. Then, he conjured his captivation spell. Valyrie spun around when the spell came into being, the manifestation of his memory clearly taking hold of her mind.

A vision of Laedron and Ismerelda emerged from the stairs by a sparkle of light, and she went about lighting the torches and candles situated around the room. The illusory woman drew her scepter-the one Laedron had come to carry-and whispered something. A flame rose from the ruby on the end of the scepter.

Ismerelda said, “We're going to move on to some more advanced incantations today. I wanted to spend more time on the basics, but there's no time for that.”

Hearing her voice, Laedron nearly lost focus on his spell. It’s amazing how precisely I remember how she sounded. He tried his best to ignore the illusions for the remainder of the casting, and when he got to the part where Ismerelda said, “Record what notes you need in your book,” he released the spell.

Valyrie turned when the images faded away. “What sort of magic was that?”

“The one we practiced here or the one I used on you just now?”

“This one, the one you cast on me.”

“’Tis known as Captivation.” He paused, thinking of how Ismerelda had taught him about aspects, then how Tavingras had said that aspects weren’t real, that they were tools to control mages. From this point forward, do I teach according to the original Uxidin methods, or do I maintain the Azuran way? What would be of the most benefit to any I should instruct?

“Captivation? Tell me more about that.”

“Okay.” He walked toward Ismerelda’s desk. “Captivation spells are but one aspect of magic, and they give the sorcerer the ability to impress thoughts and feelings upon someone else.”

“Amazing. Does it work with music?”

He turned around and tilted his head. “Music?”

“If you could combine song and a spell such as that, the audience would hang on every word.”

“Interesting that you should say that.”

“Really? How so?”

“We’re very much alike, I think, more than either of us may have realized. I, too, enjoy experimenting with new spells and new applications of magic, and I think you have the makings of a great mage.” Ismerelda’s words coming out of me. The student has become the teacher. He smiled. “We’ll have to work on this idea of yours and see where it takes us.”

“You think it’s possible?”

“Did I not write my teleportation spell from scratch?” He thought back to the things that Tavingras had told him of spellcraft. “Anything’s possible if you put your mind to it. It took me a long time to realize that, but it’s just as true now as it ever was-more so now, perhaps.”

“I’m glad that you brought me here and that you started training me. I’ve never been good at anything, really.”

“Nonsense. You’re the best archer I know, and you were doing well at your studies, right?”

“No, Lae.” She sighed and looked away. “I can shoot a bow, but my days at the university were numbered. I changed my focus from seneschal to lyricist because I had gotten a string of bad marks. I thought writing would be easier than managing finances, but I was wrong.”

“Why have you hidden it for so long?”

“Why would you hide something you’re ashamed to tell anyone? I’m sorry if I misled you, but I thought you should know the truth.”

He folded his arms. “You know something?”

“What?” she asked, her stare fixed on the floor.

“If you hadn’t done poorly, you might have stayed in Azura and completed your learning, and if that had been the way of things, you probably wouldn’t be standing here with me now.” He took her hand. “We would never have known how special we would become to one another. To me, that would have been a tragedy greater than failure in some classroom.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I love you, Val, and given the riches of the world, I would refuse them if it meant being apart from you.” He grabbed her up in a tight embrace, then pulled away. “Let’s go back to the keep, for I wouldn’t want to risk staying here with spiders-and who knows what else-crawling the walls and the floors. Besides, I thought coming here might give me a bit of closure, but it hasn’t.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “No one can ever replace Ismerelda, and I’ll always keep her memory in a special place in my heart. Wounds and injuries never completely heal; they seal up and get better, but you always remember what caused them. At times, you’ll feel the sting as if it were new, but you move on and try to do your best. It’s all you can expect of yourself.”

He ascended the stairs, then went into the common room. “One last thing. I’d like to get something to remember her by.”

“I’ll wait here, Lae. Take your time.”

He pushed open the door to Ismerelda’s bedroom. The drawers had been left half open, and clothing was strewn across the bed and chair. He spotted a book on the nightstand and walked over to read the title. Another spellbook written in Nyrethine, perhaps? With the wealth of books she had brought for our journey, I can only imagine what is written in the one she decided to leave behind.