Conquest of Avalon

Laura II: The Sword

Volobrin, the wispy green snake spirit called himself, flickering through the air and disappearing every time Laura could catch a glimpse of him.

“Most of my essence remains within Mt. Glastaigne,” he’d given as the reason for his intermittent presence when Laura asked. “I never fully vacate the seat of my power.”

Soleil had done much the same, before his death, simultaneously remaining in the sky and sending down an avatar to talk to Aurelian, and any of his other sages exalted enough to communicate with him directly.

But he’d hardly lacked any presence, for all of that. Certainly nothing like Volobrin.

The difference between a Great Spirit and a lesser one, I suppose. It wasn’t like it really mattered anyway.

Still, Mt. Glastaigne was the southernmost of the Plumard Mountains near the Eastern coast of the continent, covered in snow year-round, a strange domain for a spirit vying to replace Flammare as embodiment of the hearth. So perhaps that’s not his aim. All spirits had a voice at these convocations, even if they weren’t presenting themselves as a candidate to ascend the seat, and Volobrin could well be here to play kingmaker, as Levian had so disastrously attempted in Guerron.

And either way, what’s my place in all of this?

“I have heard about you, Laura Bougitte, erstwhile sage of the hearth, and your activities in Guerron.”

Laura swallowed, bracing herself for the despicable lie she’d been saddled with.

“You fought against that irritating little upstart, Glaciel, and the humans she favors as a tool for conquest. I commend you for it.”

“It was nothing,” she said, honestly. The battle was mostly over by the time I got there. Still, it was nice to be recognized for something she’d actually done, rather than the rank calumny her parents had so easily accepted as truth.

“She stole half of my domain, forever sundering the dominion of winter, and has proved difficult to dislodge in the centuries since. Now her armies lie in ruin, and I may yet be able to take back what is rightfully mine. As soon as the sight of Glaciel’s ignoble retreat reached me, I bid the humans of Sunderé to prepare for war, and now the hope exists to wipe out her winter court forevermore.”

“Knock yourself out. But I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

The green wisp blinked across her line of sight for an instant, the ghost of it lingering in her eyes. “You are a warrior, and an enemy to spirits now, whether by your own doing or that of another. Glaciel called upon her humans once to sunder my dominion, but I have my own humans now, my own power. As the spirit of the Hearth, I would have nothing to fear by retaking my domain.” Volobrin swirled around her, more the impression of a vortex now than a snake. “I had thought to lend my voice to decide the victor, be it venerable Tauroneo or miserable Fala, whichever could better commit to supporting me. But when a slayer of spirits wishing to die approaches my threshold, with all of the opportunity that holds? I need no longer limit my aims.”

And then it all made sense.

He wants me to be a weapon against the other candidates. “A fight you desire,” he’d said, and this could certainly count. Fala was the pick of Lamante, of Gézarde, of Fernan, who’d stood idly by as Flammare was slaughtered. A good fight, if ever there was one. “I will fight Fala, and die, if that is what you mean.” With only her sword and a limited amount of life to burn, the outcome would not be in question, but that didn’t change her intent to fight with everything she had.

“Even a close fight with a mere human might discredit enough to cost the victory, but I have other plans in mind.”

“A compact?” Laura asked, not daring to hope she could get her magic back for one last fight.

“Were I to share my power with you, my trace would be obvious, but so long as you act on your own, I can state truthfully that I never granted you my power, that I never made a compact for you to serve me. But that does not mean that you cannot benefit from it.”

“Uh, yeah, seems like it does.” At least Volobrin wasn’t demanding she speak in verse, but that didn’t seem to stop him from being needlessly unclear.

As if to underscore that point, the wispy spirit disappeared entirely without another word.

Laura waited several minutes for him to return, squinting through the darkness, but it seemed that their conversation was over.

Fine. Maybe he’d just wanted to be sure she was pointed at Fala, or something.

Conjuring a jet of flame from her hand to light the way, Laura proceeded further down the cave.

The deeper she went, the more dense the ancient paintings grew on the walls, until she was following a massive tapestry embedded into the rock, showing thousands of tiny figures fleeing from an approaching flood.

Laura was distracted enough looking at it that she almost tripped over the woman lying right in the middle of the path.

In a flash, the woman jumped up, whirling her hands around with streaky green trails emanating from each of them. “Stay back, or face the wrath of Volobrin!” She threw out a burst of power against the cave as a warning, leaving teal crystals hardened against the wall. The second warning burned through them.

A spirit might be a hard sell, but I bet I could beat this sage. She doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing. Laura held up her sword in a salute. “It’s at Volobrin’s behest that I’m here. He said he wanted me to fight Fala for him, but he couldn’t empower me directly.”

The woman’s eyes widened, but she didn’t lower her hands. “Laura Bougitte?”

“The very same.” Sheathing her sword, Laura approached the sage. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you so that he could have even more deniability. Your spirit’s a tricky one, whoever-you-are.”

“Lady Bel of Serpichon,” she answered, trying very hard to sound confident and not entirely succeeding. She can’t be more than sixteen. “Sage of the heart of the mountain, of fire and ice. The fact that a traitor like you would—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, because I don’t really care about you or your spirit.”

“That’s not a surprise,” Bel said disdainfully. “You betrayed the spirit you were sworn to serve.”

I never did, but it’s not worth arguing about when I’ll be dead tomorrow. “For the moment, I’m going to be fighting your spirit’s enemy. This I swear. I’m pretty sure Volobrin wanted you to help empower me in some way, but whether you want to help him get what he wants, that’s up to you. Not really my problem.”

Laura made it probably ten paces past her when the sage relented. “Wait!”

Smile on her face, Laura stopped and turned around.

“Wise Volobrin said that I should wait for someone here, but I never thought it would be you. Hold out your sword.”

Laura pointed the tip towards the sage, intentionally misunderstanding her meaning.

Lady Bel didn’t seem to care, though, grabbing the blade and letting her blood spill into it, green energy flowing out of the wound and into the sword. By the time she was done, the steel was faintly glowing, color slowly shifting between green, red, and light blue, never staying with one long enough to get a fixed impression.

“Do you actually have to bleed to do that, or did you just get caught up in the moment?” Laura asked as she sheathed her newly empowered sword. Either answer would make sense. Spirits might be limited to living things, but sages didn’t have the same obstacle, at least not in absolute terms. Sometimes it was nice to have reserves of energy to fall back on, like with the spirit sundials Aurelian had always kept around.

And only sages were practiced enough with magic to make much use of them, drawing on a reserve of energy they were already experienced with wielding. Weapons were another story entirely, and far more of a risk to create, let alone hand out.

Not something done lightly, or often. Especially with Avalon’s grotesque practice of binding in mind.

“Blood helps the transfer,” Lady Bel answered. “But I should have cut my leg or something. Now I’m going to have to keep my hand bandaged all week.” She scoffed, looking down at the blood. “I suppose the drama of the moment got away from me.”

Laura smiled back at her. “It happens. Maybe pour some liquor on it, if you’ve got it. Helps with infections.” She glanced down at her sword again, the very same sabre once wielded by Aurelian. Someone who’d actually done what everyone thought that Laura had, but all to protect his son. And now it’s a spirit artifact too, for as long as the power lasts. Probably not long, but really, that fit fine with everything else that Laura was doing today.

“Hey, Bel, can you do me a favor?”

“Only if it aids wise Volobrin.”

“It will,” Laura lied. And she’ll probably realize this has nothing to do with him, but I might as well try. “Once the fight is over, could you take my sword to my sister Valentine? I don’t want it lost to time.” And she’s the only one left who’s even close to worthy of it.

“I highly doubt that Volobrin could benefit from that…” Bel turned her head away. “But if I can, I will. Last testaments are a sacred thing, and it won’t be long before the power fades in any case.”

“Thank you.” Laura gave her a final look, then proceeded further into the depths, draining her own life to light the way.

The seat of the hearth lived deep within, a forge set within the earth, so perhaps it was scant surprise that spirits would gather so deep within it.

When Laura had first come here to make her pact with Flammare, she’d felt like she’d walked for miles and miles, but surely most of that had been youth, right? Even at the best of times, patience isn’t exactly my thing. Still, the walk was agonizingly dull, especially once she passed the last of the paintings, and the path became naught but rock.

Lamante was the first Laura came upon at the entrance of a larger cavern, softly lit by the glowing light of perhaps a dozen flame spirits, Fala brightest among them, the light from his blue crackling flames bouncing off of every wall. That didn’t bode well for the fight, but it wasn’t as if Laura had any chance regardless. If Gézarde had lent him power for the contest, perhaps it might even be more satisfying, a death against a true enemy rather than his pawn.

Tauroneo was there too, standing tall above all the other spirits, embedded into the cavern from the waist down, the tops of his horns nearly scratching the ceiling. If my parents get their way, he’ll replace Flammare, and they can forget all about their wayward daughter who was once a sage. They were looking to the wrong place, but that was hardly knew. Flammare had been blinded by his hatred for Glaciel, and if even a tiny part of Fernan had been telling the truth, that had ruined him. The Bull of the West was scarcely any better, looking to Andréa for his first sage, enabling further evils by ensuring that nothing would change…

And I’m sure Volobrin would be just as happy if I took him on. Certain death, to be sure, but that was what she was here for.

But first, Laura had to deal with the face-stealer at the mouth of the cavern, blocking her way. Lamante’s one of the better candidates for who set me up, too. If her good fortune continued, perhaps there would be a way to kill her here. Lamante was no fighter, just a manipulator. The best way to thwart her would be to cut through all the bullshit and make things happen.

The mantis’s predatory mandibles tilted with her head in a rictus grin. “What are you doing here, Laura Bougitte? Were you not exiled for betraying your patron spirit? Did you not lead Flammare to his death?”

“Settling things,” Laura answered, though she had no intention of doing that. “What are you doing here, face-stealer? Don’t you have a corrupt new sun to hang your laurels on?”

“Gézarde is warm and kind; he cares for his children as Soleil never regarded his own, and the humans as well. Certainly, he is far better suited to the role than Flammare ever would have been.” One of the masks on her pack almost looked like it was trying to make eye contact with Laura, a silent plea frozen in horror. “Now it falls to me to ensure that the hearth spirit, too, is chosen correctly. Having a traitorous human that murdered her patron present would only impede things.”

“I didn’t kill Flammare,” Laura said, cutting the face-stealer’s argument apart at its seams. “I didn’t have anything to do with his death. I never even went to the Convocation. Any and all of you may take my souls if I’m lying.” That ought to have settled it, but it seemed that Lamante had other ideas.

“You humans are well adept at lying with truth. With conspirators, timing, carefully chosen statements, you could well remain responsible for it.” She turned her head back to the other spirits, a paltry showing compared to who’d shown up for the last convocation in Guerron. “Any of you would be well within your rights to slay this girl where she stands. Avenging Flammare would surely add to your qualification to replace him.”

Fala, probably the spirit she was most directly talking to with that, pulsed fervently, but remained in place. He doesn’t want to attack yet? Is he scared? Even with all that power?

“Has Great Gézarde not told you the tale of Jerome, Fala? We cannot afford to take any chances. And I have my own reasons for not doing it myself. They do not concern you. What should concern you is—”

“Do you believe that I had any part in Flammare’s death, Lamante?” Because I think you gave Fernan a face so he could have someone impersonate me. Why else would she be so concerned with Laura’s presence here?

“I believe that we must be cautious in the presence of a suspected traitor to her patron.”

“Suspected by many, mostly humans, but not by you, am I? Please, tell me otherwise if I’m wrong.”

“I am suspicious of your motives for being here,” she answered.

“As am I,” added, of all spirits, Volobrin. I guess he’s really taking that disposable weapon thing seriously. “Regardless of her guilt or innocence, she has no need to be here, nor can I see any benefit to all of you from allowing it.” A part of Laura was annoyed at the ‘betrayal’, such as it was, but she wasn’t here for Volobrin or his agenda.

I’m here for myself. “As I am innocent, I can’t see why you’d need to keep me out. It certainly couldn’t be fear, not for such a great assembly of spirits.”

“Caution is not the same as fear, nor—” Lamante was interrupted by a burst of crackling static from Fala.

“Until her life is expended, Lamante, she remains a sage. Flammare’s essence remains reflected within her.” Miroirter, amazingly, seemed to be coming to her defense too, a playful glint in his pointed teeth. “It seems entirely appropriate for her to be present here.”

“My High Priest is here,” Corva added, flapping her wing in the direction of that adorable little moody kid that was technically the Duke of Condillac. Not someone I expected to see again, after he turned and ran from Aurelian’s duel with Leclaire. Probably the smartest thing the kid had ever done. “Are you proposing that we prohibit the presence of humans?” Corva continued. “That is quite a request, after your schemes with the sun.”

“Which put your beloved Fala where he stands today.” It was hard to tell through the mandibles, but Lamante’s face seemed to be twisting with displeasure. “But if you insist, I shall let the matter drop. The Convocation must begin soon.”

“Indeed,” thundered Tauroneo. “You all know who I am: a child of Terramonde, the Bull of the West, Breaker of the Plumards, slayer of Weilarn. The hearth ever lay betwixt the flame and the earth, and I promise here and now to respect that unity, as Flammare would have wanted. You all know that he chose me as his successor, and I ask that you honor that choice.”

Laura frowned. In other words: Flammare got himself killed trying to force spirits under his power, and I want to lead you all to ruin doing the same.

Fala crackled out a long rebuttal to that which looked very spirited and even convincing, judging by the reactions of the other spirits, but Laura couldn’t understand a word of it.

The next part didn’t need words, though.

In a blinding flash of light, a green inferno tore through the ceiling of the cavern, sending stone and dirt flying in its wake. By the time the dust settled, the brightly glowing form of Gézarde was floating in the cavern, not even bothering to use its wings. “I am here to support Fala,” he said, apparently a spirit of few words. “My vote is for him, and I hope that all of you will agree with what he said enough to see the need for change.”

Laura tightened the grip on the handle of her sword, feeling the faint vibrations of its new power, but she left it in its sheath for now. Of all the fights I could never win, taking on the sun himself seems like the least likely to work. However much she might want some shred of revenge, that was worth keeping in mind.

Of course, two suns had died in the space of months, so perhaps he was more vulnerable than Laura was giving credit for.

“Change,” Laura scoffed, though it was absolutely not her place to speak. What are they going to do, kill me? Who cares? “Bold words from a usurper. You rose to power through deceitful humans and Lamante, who’s practically one herself. You withdrew from all spirits for millenia and didn’t return until you could seize an Arbiter seat in your grip.” She turned towards the rest of the spirits, none of whom had yet decided to kill her, apparently. “How could you elevate their pick? The more power the likes of Lamante and Gézarde get, the more knives they'll have ready for your own backs. Her little group already saw spirits fighting spirits directly, for the first time in, what, a century? Since Khali, right?”

“There was another incident, about twenty years afterwards,” Lamante answered. “But arguably it was fallout from the same issue. As to your absurd accusations, I shall not dignify them with a response. Yes, I have the favor of the Arbiter of Light. I am not ashamed of this. Any spirit here ought to want the same, for all of the power that Gézarde is willing to share with those who have earned his support.”

“Okay.” Laura didn’t want to lose any momentum, or let the face-stealer steer the conversation, so she continued without much of a plan. “Ok, so that’s a century of peace between spirits, up until Corro and Glaciel crossed paths directly because of Soleil’s death. Followed by a massive rash of deaths.” Even if Aurelian is the real reason Soleil is dead. Him and that bard. But that was a lot of agency for a spirit to ascribe to a human, and most of them seemed loath to grant that much credit. We’re just weapons to them, not killers. “Can’t you all see it? She’s doing this right in front of you, barely trying to hide her involvement. If you choose her candidate, you’ll be gathering for another convocation before the year is out. And you’ll wish you hadn’t given such power out to the least deserving of it.”

Her palm was slick with sweat, sizzling as it fell onto the sword beneath it.

“This human may be questionable, and inappropriate, but in this instance, she is right.” Tauroneo’s booming voice echoed across the cavern. “We must cease with this conflict and escalation between spirits, just as Flammare wanted. Unity. The way of the earth: solid, immovable, unchanging.”

Laura could help but smile as she continued mouthing off. “That’s not what the hearth needs at all. It’s a reflection of humanity, however much Flammare might have minimized that in favor of his service to Soleil. You earth spirits ignored us as Terramonde slept, and only now do you see how much you depend on our service. But you’re late, Tauroneo! My brother Andréa is a cruel idiot, and he’s to be your first High Priest? Your temple is doomed before it can even begin, because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

The earth began to rumble, first only slightly, but before long it was hard for Laura to even keep her footing. Still, she continued to goad him. “You were unprepared at Soleil’s convocation and you’re unprepared now. You voted for Gézarde! Did you just forget that or something? It’s so clear that you have no idea what you’re doing because you’ve literally been living under a rock!”

That did it.

The earth beneath Laura collapsed, nearly pulling her down into a live burial, but she stayed in the air with fire at her feet, draining her life every instant it burned.

Volobrin surged towards her, but Tauroneo held up his hand, bidding him to stay back. “I will take care of this myself,” he said coldly, his very words shaking rock loose from above.

There may be better deaths than this, but it’s one I can accept. Laura drew her sword, gleaming in the cavern’s green sunlight, and charged the bull.