Chương 124: Chapter 110 - Regards for the Lich

++I have always induced a rather extreme reaction from people, one way or another. I believe that is a product of my… unyielding personality. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E. Agrian caught Isabel just as she was leaving Huit's company, which was lucky for him. The thought of being in the presence of both women at once brought to mind images of snarling tigers, or hurricanes made out of razor blades.

He did in fact think he would prefer to stare down Nu'chista than interrupt the two of them. One of them, though? Even if that one was Isabel, Agrian had just enough balls to manage that. Or rather, he had just enough motivation. Because however pleased he was that his sister was still alive, that he hadn't failed that badly, he still had questions for her. In fact, caring about Isabel's life only made those questions more significant. He picked up the pace as he headed over to ask them.

"Isabel," he called out.

"A word?"

"No," Isabel kept walking. Didn't slow down. She sped up in fact. Agrian felt his brotherly affection and fears melt away as his sister managed to remind him, in one syllable, about all the things he hadn't missed, all the worries she'd inspired, and all the damned danger she was insisting on dragging their family into. And all the explanations she owed him. Agrian brought a hand down on Isabel's shoulder and stopped her dead. He actually felt bad for a moment.

She was very tall for a woman, and acted ten years older than she was. It was hard, sometimes, to remember how much stronger he was when magic was taken out of the equation.

"You owe me," he told her frankly. Isabel turned and met his gaze.

"Are you calling in a debt now, for the times you have saved me?" her voice was so serious, so suddenly, that it almost sent him back a step.

"No, I'm asking my little sister to open up with me. Because we're siblings. Because we do that for each other. Because it's the bare minimum when you're talking to someone you love." Isabel's face spasmed, and Agrian felt sure she'd shut him out on the spot. Instead she sighed, reluctance practically oozing from every pore, and spoke.

"Very well. I was captured, as you know. But what I did not say…" she looked around, and at a gesture they were surrounded by sound-proof aether walling.

"I was forced to help the necromancers with their ritual. The one that produced that mana surge." Agrian knew it wasn't the most dignified reaction, and that it would do nothing to convince Isabel he truly could be treated as an equal and an adult, but the news was just too much for him. He started freaking out.

"Stop," Isabel told him.

"Oh my Gods," Agrian gasped.

"Silence," she urged.

"Holy…holy shit, you…treason, that was treason, you did treason!"

"Shut up!" Isabel yelled, grabbing him by the head and starting to shake it, like she was hoping the loudness would fall free.

"This is why I do not tell you things."

"No, you don't tell me things because you're an evil bitch!" Agrian snapped, distractedly. Distracted or not he'd actually made a good point. A truthful one at least. That didn't stop him from hyperventilating though.

"This can't be happening," Agrian groaned.

"Isabl this is…they won't let you live for this, you realise? They'll—""I know," she snapped.

"Which is why it is paramount that you stop panicking and start thinking." Agrian hated how she was putting it, but he had to admit she was right. He made himself calm. Slowly, that was. Because he had quite a lot to do in that regard.

"If I am discovered to have contributed to that surge of power, I will be killed and my heart eaten. Nu'chista will want to do that regardless, he is paranoid about the amount of mana the last ritual let out, and desperately looking for any excuse to become less helpless than he was before. Given the chance I suspect he would devour every magician in this city, he would certainly eat me, the one who was found to have aided that surge." Agrian followed along, not knowing much to do save for nod.

The way Isabel was talking, talking about a Demigod, made him sound all… slippery. Opportunistic, fearful and political. Then again, Agrian had been in the army long enough, and seen enough of Nu'chista's own decisions, that he couldn't much deny it. If the Demigods could lead the assault causing this barbarity, then why couldn't they act as she was suggesting? It made sense. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. It fit with previously observed patterns.

And it would go a long way to explaining Aryqatan's moment of… had that been doubt?

"We need to…" he trailed off. Agrian had been about to suggest that they tell someone and warn other people of this, use Isabel's knowledge to avert disaster, but he realised just why they couldn't even as he said it.

"We need to stay quiet about this," his sister growled. There was an intensity to her eyes that Agrian didn't think he'd ever seen before.

"Right?" He thought about that. Every instinct he had was telling him to ignore Isabel and go off barking about this. To Aryqatan, maybe. She was clearly less impulsive than Nu'chista, more… human. He could trust her, right? Good sense crushed that notion right out of him. Aryqatan was a Demigod and she wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a magician—let alone a magician who'd already betrayed Garamon—for her own kind. Agrian had seen the way Demigods regarded people, and it wasn't as equals at all.

If a human served well and proved useful, he might get the honour of a Demigod regarding him the way a man might their favourite dog. To be appreciated and liked? Sure. To be put over their own kind in value? He doubted Isbael would survive even as long as an hour after he shared this with Aryqatan. A minute if he went to Nu'chista instead. No, Agrian felt his guts sink as it well and truly hit home for him that he had no choice at all.

"Alright," he said at last. The words felt solid and painful escaping him, like he was forcing them out through a throat too tight to accommodate their exit.

"I need your word on this, Agrian," Isabel added.

"My life is at stake."

"I said alright," he snapped.

"You think I'm stupid enough to get you killed?" Isabel didn't say anything at all, which hurt more than any words could have.

"I must go now," she continued instead.

"I am answering a summons from Aryqatan."

"Right," Agrian nodded as she turned and moved on.

"Wait," he blurted out. Isabel waited.

"Laiel Fiq. He's been snooping around you, you'll want to… do something about that." Isabel nodded, then left wordlessly. Agrian watched his sister go. He'd not managed to ask her anything about her necromancy, about how she started it, why she did it, anything. Was that intentional on Isabel's part? There was always something with her, always a reason not to get a straight answer. Agrian was half-tempted to chase her back down and demand one, but he couldn't bring himself to do so after the news she'd given him.

Gods, she'd betrayed the Gods. Unwillingly, sure, but the memory would be there in her head if anyone powerful and skilled enough to sift through them ever made the attempt. She'd only gone and done something that could've nailed the lid shut on house Vornholt's coffin. Then again, she'd gone and done that long before this particular betrayal too. Agrian headed off, though as he walked he couldn't help but feel a nagging at the back of his mind. An ineffable certainty that, somehow, he was missing something.

Something big, looming and darker than night itself. Something that would prove important soon.

Nesariyah wasn't helping with the ritual much anymore, nobody was. With that bitch Vornholt gone, Sethira had taken to working almost feverishly by herself. According to the girl's own words, the presence of anyone else would only distract her. And Nesariyah believed her. She heard the whispered doubts from other casters, some former members of Orapathaqi's priesthood, but she knew that all the words were hollow.

Having spent so long working alongside Vornholt, Nesariyah knew the order of genius in which she and Sethira operated. It was simply removed from common people, removed even from Nesariyah herself. She was like a dog to them, and if the best contribution she could make was to stand back and keep from interfering with their human work then that was what she would do. Granted, it was only Sethira doing that work right now. Vornholt had gotten herself captured.

Nesariyah hadn't believed that at first, her assumption had been that the girl had betrayed her new coterie just as she'd betrayed Nesariyah with that tracking ring. Sethira, though, had laughed off the suggestion. Nesariyah didn't know why, but that confidence, that certainty, struck her as uncharacteristic for someone of Sethira's disposition. The girl had been all caution in everything she'd done until now, and she was this relaxed about a potential leak of information?

Vornholt knew more than Nesariyah did, easily enough to bury them. Perhaps she was just slow, but it was only that realization that made Nesariyah suspect foul play. Had Vornholt stayed behind to steer Garamon's investigation away? Surely not. What had she told Nesariyah? Lots of things, and plenty of lies by omission. It was tempting to dismiss everything she thought she knew of Vornholt, but Nesariyah couldn't bring herself to do that.

As foggy as the hatred made everything, she did have some idea of how the girl thought. Or at least of what her values were. Would Isabel Vornholt risk herself if it meant her own plans were more likely to succeed in the long-term? Nesariyah didn't know. But the fact that she was with Garamon now would give her the opportunity to secure them. And Nesariyah thought she would choose to do that. What had Vornholt said? Her goals aligned with Nesariyah's more than Garamon's did for the time being.

She'd worked with Sethira of her own volition, Nesariyah had seen that. So Nesariyah believed she'd continue to do so, if only for a while longer. But that didn't mean she'd be going and doing something as stupid as trusting her, she'd learned that painful lesson already. Vornholt would be back, like cockroaches always were, and when she did she'd have her own plans. Nesariyah knew they may well be different, or harmful, to her own general goal of continuing to live in peace.

Besides, there was always the most likely scenario too. That Vornholt would be found out as a traitor by her own people and put to death. Despite her hatred, Nesariyah couldn't quite bring herself to wish for that at the moment. And it wasn't just because she knew how necessary Vornholt would be in the upcoming conflict, either.