Conquest of Avalon

Fernan VII: A Mere Observer

The cheering stopped in the space of an instant, interrupted by the thunderous crack in the air.

I know that sound.

“What happened?” Florette whispered, her body glowing a tense blue.

Something in Lord Lumière’s hand had flared red the instant the noise had sounded; even now it was far hotter than the rest of his body, standing out even as he tucked it back into his robes.

“He… That’s what he’s been practicing…” What had happened? Lady Camille had simply collapsed a moment after the noise, with no apparent blasts or materials to incapacitate her.

“Needed every moment of it too.” Magnifico rose to a standing position. “Though of course, he’d never even seen a gun before, let alone aimed one. They always say practice makes perfect.” Who says that?

Florette glowed brighter. “Wait, you were the one who—”

The man behind her, King Lucien, shoved her out of the way. “You’ll die for this, bard!”

“I doubt it.” Magnifico folded his arms. “Nothing’s managed to kill me yet, and it’s not for lack of trying.”

King Lucien drew his sword.

The bard shrugged. “Weapons were permitted, by your betrothed’s own request, in fact.”

From behind the king, perhaps ten more men and women drew their swords in turn, forming a wedge with him at the tip.

“Say your last words, creature of Avalon, and I shall make your death swift.”

His words hung in the air for an instant, the crowds on the beach below turning their attention up at all of them.

Magnifico sighed. “No.” He stepped back towards the aisle, Fernan scrambling back to allow him passage. The bard said something softly, inaudible under the cacophonous roar filling the air, then dipped his head.

Then a bright light stepped between them. Large and sturdy, with the traces of a beard. This was Adrian Couteau. The sage held his arms out and yelled something in the king’s face, but Lucien pushed back, elbowing him with his sword arm.

That was when everything really went wrong.

Pillars of flame shot up into the sky, enlarged from the campfires on the beach below.

“For Soleil!” Adrian’s shoulder was weeping warmth, blood dripping as he whirled his arm.

Fernan was knocked down, the seat of the row below knocking the wind out of him as he saw the flames and warmth begin to spread from King Lucien to the wood below.

More sages had joined Adrian, throwing fire and light at the King’s guard with abandon, but more missed than hit.

Someone with a banner stepped over his head and stabbed it into a sage’s chest, extinguishing his life in an instant.

Why? What had let it come to this?

The wood under Fernan’s hands and feet was growing hotter by the second, so he reflexively pushed back against the heat, seeing his pulse ripple across the stands and calm the flames for a moment.

The scent of smoke filled his nose, but it didn’t sting his eyes. Even as he coughed through it, the silhouettes of sages and guardsmen fighting were clear. Magnifico was nowhere to be found, but Florette was moving like water, dodging and ducking around blows, keeping her footing all the while..

She pushed the short woman who had been standing by the king out of the way of a ray of light, turning back to tackle the sage who had shot it. It pinned him to the floor, but that gave way under them with a whistling crack. She scrambled back just in time, leaving the sage to fall into the burning maw.

The waves of people rushing above his head were still there, some trampling his back every so often, but with a glance back to time it right, Fernan stood and rushed towards Florette.

She picked up a sword from one of the fallen and lunged towards him.

“Stop!” he yelled futilely. “It’s me!”

The blade flew past his side, slicing his tunic and eliciting a yelp of pain. But not from him.

Fernan flicked his eyes back and saw one of the king’s guardsmen collapse to one knee, the sword sticking out of his abdomen.

Florette startled back, dropping the sword, but she still had the presence of mind to duck under a beam of light before it clipped her head. She grabbed Fernan, pulling him close enough to shout in his ear. “We have to get out of here!”

No kidding. “How?” he yelled back, scanning his eyes back and forth to make sure no one else was approaching them. “The fighting’s worst on the aisles, and the mob keeps coming up the stairs.”

“You can see that?” she yelled back, pushing him under a massive swing of an axe.

“Of course I can—” Oh. The smoke. “I think I have a plan!” He grabbed her hand and took in the sights of the fighting.

The king’s guard had maintained some discipline, returning to formation each time one of them dodged out of the way, surrounding and cornering isolated sages when they could manage it by ambushing them through the smoke. King Lucien, easier to pick out with his long hair faintly glowing from the heat, was still at the head of the formation, slipping in and out of the sages’ view with effortless grace, only stopping every so often to cough.

The sages, by contrast, were a mess — all spread out, each person for themself. As he looked, one sage even hit another with a plume of flame, blind as they all were.

More and more people came up from the beach, ascending the stairs and climbing up the sides only to find a blade or a fire waiting for them. It was impossible to tell who they were here to fight for, but that didn’t stop the bodies from piling higher and higher.

But there was no path free.

“Can you see a way out?” Florette coughed, dancing from one position to the other as the heat beneath them grew.

“No.” Fernan exhaled sharply, sweeping his hand around to gesture at the flaming chaos. “Every direction is cut off.”

Florette’s mouth twisted, her eyes lighting up brighter than her face. “What about up?”

“Up?”

“You saw Lumière in that duel. Can’t you do something like that?”

“What, fly? I can’t—”

She grabbed his hand and pointed it at the ground. “Just blast us off of here. If we land in the water, it ought to be safe.”

“Safe.” He stared back at her.

“Safer than this.” She flailed her arms. “Come on, just try.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath, tapping into the energy Gézarde bestowed him with, recreating the feeling of exhaling flame, but channeling it down to his fists. The warmth engulfed him, but it did not consume him. “Grab me!”

Florette wrapped her arms around him the instant before concussive flames shot out of his hands, blasting them up into the air.

For a moment, he was flying.

Then his head fell under the water, and the noise stopped.

When he surfaced, the whole beach was awash in the glow of blood and flame, masses trampling over cooling bodies as they blindly shouldered through the crowds and smoke. Few had real weapons, hefting large stones and improvised torches from the cookfires, or simply brawling with their fists.

“Fernan.”

The stands were already caving in on themselves, raining sparks and embers down on those trapped beneath it, some pinned in place by boards while others were only unconscious. The sun sages stood out, their aura brighter even in death, but they made up only a fraction of the fallen.

“Fernan!”

Why did it come to this? Unbidden, the image of Camille slumping to the ground returned, tumbling into the rising waves below as Lumière sat back with satisfaction. Even then. How could people be so angry that they would kill for it?

The water splashed as Florette slapped him in the face. “Focus, Fernan! We need to get the fuck out of here, right now. Can you see a way out?”

He blinked, shaking the paralysis from his head. “No one’s really fighting in the water. If we wade through at waist height, we can head north and escape from the city.”

Florette shook her head. “South. I have an appointment, and you still need your sundial.” She glowed slightly brighter. “Come on. There’ll be time to think later. Right now we have to go.”

“Right,” he sighed.

At least no one else bothered them on their way, the crowd thinning out to nothing before they even reached the north gates of the city. At the foot of the tower atop the rocky arm that reached into the water, someone was waiting, leaning back against the wall with their arms folded.

“Careful,” he whispered. “I think someone’s watching the entrance.”

Florette laughed, lighting up with a burst of red. “It’s Eloise. We’re fine. Better than fine, really.”

“That’s the pirate you met?” Fernan narrowed his eyes. “We need to be all the more cautious, then.”

“Sure, yeah.” Florette picked up her pace, stepping out ahead of him.

He could see her hug the pirate once she reached her, stepping back and starting to talk.

She was slender, with short hair, and a strange coldness to her aura, far more muted than most people he had seen. And she shut her mouth the moment Fernan entered their earshot.

“He’s fine, Eloise.” Florette patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’ve already talked about it with him.”

“Smart call. I always say, ‘if you want a job to go well, blab about it to people connected to the person you want to rob’. Fucking brilliant, Florette.”

“Connected?” Fernan raised an eyebrow.

“Magnifico and Lumière are close. Or were, maybe, if one of them bit it up there. And you’re clearly a sage in his temple, Mr. Flame Eyes.”

Fernan sighed.

“He won’t say anything. Really. The job is over, anyway, right?”

Eloise warmed slightly, her posture straightening. “Cash in hand. Spread it out among the crew while we wait for the Folly to get lifted out of the water. Blaise had his work cut out for him rigging up all those sacs of air, so it took a minute to reach the surface again. Good to go now, though.”

“Now? What about…” She trailed off.

Fernan shot her a look that she ignored.

“Hah, yeah.” Eloise folded her arms. “Listen, in this business, nothing’s more valuable than knowing when to cut and run. And that”—she pointed up the beach—“that’s as good a sign as it gets. There’ll be other tournaments. Come on.”

“Wait, but—”

“Florette, if you want to stay, I’m not going to stop you. But the Seaward Folly is leaving, and you just put a lot of work earning your place on it.”

She turned to Fernan, biting her lip.

“It’s fine,” he said, perhaps a bit too curtly. “This is what you wanted, right? I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah…” Florette put her hand on the back of her neck. “I just… I wanted to know you and the village were safe, before I left. Especially since my lie got you roped up in all of this sage stuff.”

“Tough shit, then, I guess.” Eloise slapped her on the back. “Time to go.”

“I guess this is goodbye, then.” Florette winced as she said it.

“Good luck, with all of it,” Fernan said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure you’ll have some great stories to tell me, the next time we meet.” If you don’t get yourself seriously hurt, first, acting as reckless as you have been here. But chastising her for it now would be worse than useless, only poisoning their friendship before she left. It wasn’t anything Florette hadn’t already heard, anyway. “Stay safe,” was the best he could manage without sounding condescending.

She nodded. “Take care, Fernan. Don’t let anyone give you any shit, alright? Until we meet again.”

“Until then.” Whenever that will be.

Eloise grabbed Florette’s wrist and pulled her back south towards the pier.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there after they left, leaning against the lowest rocks and contemplating everything he had seen, but eventually he managed to pick himself up and start walking again.

The fires were still raging by the time he made it back to the Sun Temple, the smouldering wreckage of the arena stands sending warm air and smoke into the sky. It was clearly visible from the isolated top of the tower, the same place he had glimpsed Soleil days earlier.

“That was amazing! How did you do it, Fernan?”

“Fuck.” He practically jumped out of his skin. “Mara? You saw all of that?”

The gecko finished clambering over the edge, nodding her head as she settled in. “I wasn’t going to miss it! I’ve been hiding on the edges for half a moon’s turn now, Fernan, listening to stolen words from more humans than I knew even existed.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I know you wanted to come and explore. I’m just worried about what might happen if people saw you. Especially there. If any of the king’s people thought you were my familiar, they’d have attacked you on sight.”

“Danger?” Mara glowed bright. “The humans were only fighting each other! First the two in the water, and then everyone else. But by that point they were all so blind that avoiding them was completely effortless.”

“I wish I’d known you were there. I could have…” Could have what, exactly? Stopped the fighting? Of course not. What had there even been to do? “Ugh, this is such a mess, Mara. Florette’s gone, Camille’s dead, and I don’t even know what happened to Magnifico and Lord Lumière.” Or Adrian, for that matter. His prospects hadn’t looked good when they’d left.

“I’m still here!”

Fernan smiled. “True. Thank you.”

She glowed green, turning her head. “Humans are coming. Do you want me to hide again?”

“No, it’s fine.” Looking down, the bright auras meant that these were the sages returning. Some of them, anyway; Adrian wasn’t among them, and Lumière was being carried, lying down on a flat litter. “They know you anyway. Just let me go see Lord Lumière alone, once they let me.”

“He needs coal,” Mara noted. “It’s bad for you, staying drained like that.”

“I don’t know that that’s true for humans, necessarily. But he does look to be in a bad way.”

As it turned out, from the words of the other sages once Fernan descended, he had drawn on a sage’s last resort: draining his own life to power his magic, once his spirit energy had depleted entirely.

From there, there was little to do. Aubaine was locked in his room by his personal guard, not to be seen by anyone, and Lord Lumière was scarcely any better. Sequestered in his chambers, he invited the sages in for hushed meetings two or three at a time.

“It was worth it, of course,” Propped up in his bed, Lumière spoke calmly despite his diminished aura. Fernan had finally been summoned after hours of listless waiting. “Had Camille drowned me, I’d have lost all my remaining years, rather than two. It’s something to keep in mind when all else fails, Fernan.”

“Is she really dead?” he asked cautiously. “I saw her fall. I saw the life drain out of her, but…”

Lord Lumière shrugged. “She lost, Fernan. That’s what’s important. Magnifico assured me of his weapon’s lethality, and I saw the hole it tore in her shoulder myself, but really, who can say? A water sage in the ocean might pull any sort of trickery to live when it seems impossible. I imagine we’ll hear from her soon, if that’s the case. Perhaps she’ll even deliver our fifty souls in person.”

“And everything that followed?” People screaming in the smoke and flames, coughing and bleeding as they were beaten and stabbed. Fernan shook his head clear of the image. “I saw what your sages did, my lord. I can’t accept—”

He held up a single finger. “Remember who struck first, Fernan. I was in no position to stop it myself, after the stresses of the duel, but had I been I would have nonetheless refrained. The Malins stuck their hand into the fire and they were burned for it. Now they’ve learned their lesson.”

Fernan scoffed.

“Not all of them, of course, but any organized resistance ought to be cowed for some time. After Emile Leclaire and the Debrays quelled the fires and the fighting, they officially condemned King Lucien, though I’m sure it brought them no pleasure to do so. Adrian as well, but that’s far less of an issue for us, if he even survives his wounds.” He bit his lip. “We can only hope Soleil sees fit to keep him with us longer. In the meantime, a pair of burned hands and lungs full of smoke are no less than His Majesty deserves. He’s always been rash, and sorely in need of a lesson like this.”

“You killed his wife.”

“Betrothed, Fernan. They weren’t even yet married. And really, I did him a favor there, too. Another exile brings little to the table of a marriage. All Camille could offer was her power, and clearly that wasn’t much to boast about. If she really is dead, if he truly wishes for his homeland back, he could offer his hand in marriage to try to win the swords to do it. Or earn his place in Avalon, if he wished to demonstrate that his childish delusions of reconquest had passed. I believe Lord Airion’s daughter is only a few years younger than him, and niece to King Harold.”

Fernan’s eyes flared. “You—”

“Stop interrupting me, Fernan. It’s unbecoming of an underling.” He sat up straighter against the headboard. “Ah yes, anyway, I wished to thank you for seeing Magnifico safely from the battlefield. He spoke highly of your ability to navigate, and the manner by which you led him out of harm’s way. The two of us are most grateful.”

“Alright…” Rescued Magnifico? Why would he lie about that? He had simply disappeared the moment the fighting started, before the smoke had even filled the air. How had he even known enough about Fernan’s sight for the lie to be so credible? Khali’s curse, what a mess.

“He mentioned that you needed a sundial to stand up to an evil spirit in your homeland. I understand your situation well, and would like to offer you leave to address it.” Lord Lumière reached over to the cabinet next to his bed, opened a drawer, and pulled a glowing sundial from within it. “In recognition of your efforts, I think you’ve more than earned it. The stablemaster has a garron for you saddled and ready, to help you on your way.”

Fernan stared mutely at the object in his hands. The key to saving his village, to following the plan. All his, by way of lies and carnage.

Lumière’s mouth stretched back into a smile. “Be sure to return once you’re finished. We have other business with you, ushering in our bright future. In the meantime, good luck.”