'Go and sleep now.'
'Be careful, Ephy. It isn't getting any easier.'
'I know, Myra,' said Ephemere. 'I know.'
'I love you, Ephy,' said Myriell as she began to disengage.
'Always,' said Ephemere.
And Myriell was gone and the isolation clamped down on Ephemere, sending her heart into palpitations and leaving her momentarily short of breath. Beneath the delicate mind shield, Lyanna cried out in pain, her thoughts confused and scared.
For all that Ephemere felt alone, for Lyanna it was far, far worse. Such a small child and now separated not just from her mother, but from her senses too, living in a pitch black world of night where uncontained mana battered ceaselessly at her fragile mind.
Lyanna's mind was like a magnet, dragging in magical essence in enormous quantities but quite unable to mould it or understand what it was she unleashed. While she lay in her Night, her mind experimented, fought to control what it craved and threw out random mana shapes with staggering power because that control was denied it. For her to survive, she would have to learn.
For Ephemere and all the Al-Drechar, their only focus was to defend her from that which she couldn't yet control or manipulate. Collapsing shapes posed a great threat as they unravelled and they had to be first deflected from where they might wreak havoc, and then given an outlet. It meant suffering blow after blow of half-formed magic, each one chipping away at the strength of their
minds. Any shape fully formed had to be allowed free rein despite the resultant devastation in Balaia and now, Ornouth. But it had to be endured. For the succession of the One, it had to be endured.
Ephemere cried. It happened with the beginning of every shift. She felt Lyanna's moans as they modulated through the mana, the only human emotion in the elemental tumult she created. She couldn't respond, couldn't put her arms around an entity that was not there to embrace and wasn't there to be comforted.
All she could do was deflect the dangerous magical energy that Lyanna provoked. And with every slamming of a bolt against her shield, she weakened, but with every breath she took, her resolve hardened.
But none of it was why she cried.
She knew she had to suffer whatever the Night Child threw at her but her tears were because she didn't know if Erienne would return in time.
And if she didn't, the world was already dead and all her pain would have been wasted.
Erienne was momentarily confused, genuinely refusing to believe her eyes. Though Selik had intimated he was assisted by mages, never in her worst nightmare had she contemplated being before the man who had walked through her cabin door. She shook her head, shuddering at what it all meant. This was no rogue Dordovan mage, this was the High Secretary of the College. A man steeped in respect and the ethics of her College. A man she had known all her life and had thought she understood and could trust.
'Erienne, please don't judge me too quickly.'
Berian's words made her feel sick. She was glad she was sitting down or she'd have fallen. Emotions and thoughts crowded her mind. She had no idea how to react or what to say. All she knew was that the revulsion she felt at Berian's presence, and the magnitude of the betrayal that presence represented, was overwhelming. She swayed and turned her head away.
'Don't talk to me,' she rasped, tasting bile in her mouth. 'Don't even look at me. You revolt me.'
'Please, Erienne,' said Berian. 'We had to find you. We worry for you and Lyanna.'
'How dare you lie to me!' Erienne's eyes blazed, her rage growing. 'You're standing next to the murderer of my children. Dordovan children. How could you!'
Berian gave Selik a sideways glance. 'But they knew where to find you again,' he said gently. 'And we would see you come to no further harm.'
'Liar!' Erienne flew across the cabin, landing one punch on Berian's face before Selik dragged her away and threw her back on the bed.
'Calm yourself,' he drawled.
'Calm?' she screamed. 'Great Gods burning, I've delivered myself and my child to hell.' She jabbed a finger at Berian. 'And you, you bastard betrayer. You're dead. I swear it. You've betrayed everything and joined with Witch Hunters to find your own and kill them.'
She slumped, her head dropping to her chest, her rage extinguished. Helplessness swept through her and tears fell down her cheeks. Everything she'd believed in was in ashes at her feet.
'How could you?' she whispered.
'Because your daughter is a danger to Balaia,' said Berian, all hint of gentleness gone from his voice. 'And she is a herald of doom for Dordover. Did you really think we'd stand by and let you bring her to the One uncontested? She must be controlled by Dordover to ensure our College survives. It is you who are the betrayer, Erienne Malanvai. I would save my College. You would see it fall.'
Erienne shook her head. 'No,' she managed through her weeping. 'No, you don't understand.'
'Yes, Erienne, I do,' said Berian. 'I understand only too well.'
She heard footsteps receding and her door close and lock.
Erienne had never considered the circumstances of her death until now. Never wondered if she'd know it was imminent, what she might say, how she might react, how she might feel. But here it was, only worse. Because she wasn't dying alone. She was sealing the fate of her daughter at the same time.
She felt detached, looking in from afar. Her life had taken on dual qualities of utter certainty and dreamlike unreality. There were many tilings she knew. Selik wouldn't touch her until they reached Herendeneth. The Raven, if they survived, would be chasing her. She'd been betrayed by Dordover. And Berian, of all mages, was
travelling with her, helping to organise her death. But her grasp of time seemed vague. She felt the ship move, knew they were in the channel heading down towards the Bay of Arlen, but somehow couldn't connect it with her reality. None of it should be happening and there were parts of her that still believed that she would come to and find Denser watching over her.
She had tried to cast, of course. It was one way to reconnect herself with everything she knew. But though her faculties were recovering, she hadn't the stamina to attempt complex shapes and, even if she could, a Dordovan spell shield covered her cabin, leaving her completely cut off.
She poured a goblet of water, walked to the back of her cabin and looked out of the small window. Through the rain, she could see the red smudge in the skies above Arlen, indicating the fires that still raged there. She held on to the window ledge as the ship rolled, water spilling over her hand. The wind was gusting very strong and though making headway, the Ocean Elm was surely under limited sail. She wouldn't know. Selik wouldn't let her out on deck.
She sat on the bed, draining the goblet and placing it on her small table. Another roll and it fell to the floor, clinking dully on the timbers. She left it there. Trying to ignore the conditions outside, the rain that drilled into the glass of the window and the wind that washed over them, howling as it came, Erienne set her mind to what, if anything, she could do.
It wasn't a long list. The most obvious route was magic but she had only just begun to probe the shield placed around her. It was strong, probably the work of three Dordovan betrayers and she had no doubt that it was being monitored closely for signs she was testing its structure. If she found weakness, she'd have to be ready to exploit it immediately.
On the physical plane, there were two escape routes, neither viable. The door to her cabin was kept locked and two guards stood outside it. She hadn't even considered attacking them despite the fact that they stood inside the spell shield. After all, where would it get her?
The window had been nailed shut and, even if she could force it, the drop to the water would result only in her death from drowning.