Twenty-One - The Price of Magic

The beginning of the end starts, as it is destined, with travesty.

As she digs yet another shallow grave just beyond the stone fortress of Nordalta, Emidris knows that she has failed. The carefully folded linen in her shaking hands is stained with her moon blood and it is undeniable evidence that she has once again let down her kingdom and her husband. There are two other lumps of earth lined against the castle walls, shadowed by the great forest beneath the hill, that speak to just how grave her situation is.

Emidris is barren.

Emidris is a Princess of the Ruling House, married into the House of Elric by the King's young nephew, Perseus, for the sole purpose of providing the House an heir for the future throne. As the King had expressed no interest in taking a wife - he seemed to be far too concerned in the roiling politics plaguing the land and listening to the poisonous whispers of paranoid advisors who fed into the distrust of the augurs - it had been made clear to Emidris that her only purpose in life was to secure the bloodline of the House.

And yet, there are now three tiny memorials just beyond the gates of the castle gardens that betray her inability to carry a child beyond the space of a moon cycle.

Emidris muffles her sobs with the back of her hand as she scrapes dirt over the linen masking her unborn child from sight, chest tight with anxiety and her mind blank under the duress of her grief. She has come to love her husband, for Perseus is fair and good and above all else kind, but she has not told him of these struggles, for they are a woman's worry to carry for burden. And - though it pained her to even think it true - she has begun to fear that it is the differences in their heritages that have become impossible to overcome for this venture.

Emidris is of the Nordaltarn land, born into the family of a tradesman, and is indisputably from this kingdom for as long as her family line can be traced backward. Perseus, on the other hand, hails from the continent, as is evidenced by the darkness of his hair and the swarthiness of his complexion, both of which are not natural this far north, nor at all on these islands. The House of Elric had taken rule over the kingdom, first by force and then by loyalty, and Emidris would be the first to pledge herself to the House. In fact, she had in her marriage to the King's nephew -

But Emidris is barren and the House of Elric is in need of another heir.

She presses her trembling palms over the moist dirt that serves as an unmarked grave and sighs weakly. What might happen to her? Loathe as she is to even acknowledge it, the King has begun to seem unstable. She doesn't doubt for a moment that should her barren womb come to light, it would spell nothing but horror for her and her family. There would be nothing Perseus could do to save her and that is even if he would be so inclined once he learns of her failures.

Her worst fears, she knows, will soon become reality. The servants have begun to whisper and it is impossible that Emidris has been able to hide all evidence from her lady maids and - and Perseus, though a man, is not entirely ignorant.

After a year of their marriage, Emidris should have something to show for it.

She casts her dark eyes to the small bumps of new growth, ranging from fully-covered in clovers and deteriorating to the mound of dirt beneath her palms, and her tears fall anew. She does not understand why her womb will not shelter new life, but then again, perhaps it is not so surprising. Her late mother had passed away in childbirth, along with Emidris' still-born brother when Emidris was young yet. Had the struggle in motherhood been passed to Emidris, as well?

It would seem so.

Emidris bows her neck, touching her forehead to the dirt to allow her tears to soak into the earth, her shoulders heaving in great shivering sobs that she tries to muffle with the application of her teeth to her lips. A futile pursuit, surely, but Emidris may only mourn in private and she is only able to find privacy beyond the castle walls. If only she could just -

"Such wretched bereavement and from one so rich with the vitality of life," says a voice quite suddenly and Emidris gasps in shock, twisting around and tumbling onto the rear of her fine dress with eyes wide in shock, a demand on the tip of her tongue that dies the second she spots the figure stepping from the mists of the forest. "Tell me, lady, what has crushed your heart so?"

Emidris is unable to answer, such is the gravity of her surprise at encountering such a figure. A woman, rather, though that is hardly accurate to capture the presence still striding gracefully toward her. Female, certainly, with hair so pale it is purely white, like the first snows of winter, and an arrestingly youthful face with serene, blisteringly persimmon eyes. An augur, she thinks, and then frowns, taking in the ethereal quality of the being before her and the timeless wisdom resting in the gaze that has stopped on her with such curiosity. Or something like an augur.

Something that is not of this realm, Emidris is nearly certain.

"You would be quite right, lady," says the being, smiling widely as Emidris gasps again. "You have quite a fine mind."

Emidris swallows heavily at the implication that her thoughts had been plucked right from her head, like a child pulling apart daisies for amusement. "T-thank you."

Then, the being frowns. "It is a shame that your heart is shadowed so completely…although, yes, now it is clear. Oh, lady, allow me to share in your grief. Such a terrible struggle you have shouldered."

Unwittingly, Emidris' hands fall to her flat stomach, her chest tightening as if the air is trapped within her lungs. She does not know what to do. There are protocols that members of the House of Elric are expected to observe in the face of augurs and while Perseus does not agree with the decree set forth by the King, it was not in her nature to outrightly defy the orders of her betters. Emidris should not be hesitating. She should be calling for guards. She should -

"You may call me Inume."

Emidris starts, quiet in her staring as Inume moves to kneel at her side, passing a bone-white hand over the three mounds that represent the unlived lives of her children. She bites back the urge to defend these unmarked graves, teeth cutting into her cheeks. Inume murmurs something in the augur tongue and as the melody moves forth from her mouth, so too does three strong sprigs of new-leafed flowers, each as brilliantly white as noon sun breaking over the capped mountains in the distance.

"They shall be remembered, lady, so do not fret," says Inume soothingly.

Emidris speaks without thinking, her grief loosening her tongue more than shock at interacting so peaceably with an augur ever could have done. "There is little I may do save for fretting," she mutters, emotion thick in her throat as she goes to explain her meaning further -

But Inume has already taken the thoughts right from her mind and the ethereal woman frowns. "Truly, do you long for a child so much?"

"Yes."

Inume tilts her head, oddly bird-like and unblinking as she assesses Emidris, who is caught frozen like a hare before the hunter. The moment stretches onward, both weightless and fraught with tension, and then Inume says, "There is a solution to your troubles, lady, but the price is very steep. Magic always has a price."

Emidris' heart soars. "You would help me?"

"As I said, lady, my help is not without a cost," Inume warns.

"I care not," Emidris is quick to answer, hands still pressed to her empty womb. "Please, I will give anything."

Inume's lips twitch into a vague smile that is nearly as warm as it is chilling. "Even your life?"

The answer, of course, is yes. Emidris is willing to pay any price so long as she might give birth to the heir of the House of Elric, so that she might honor her husband and her kingdom. It matters not that she must undergo a series of secret meetings with Inume in the forest beyond the castle, or that those meetings feature vile concoctions tipped down her throat so that Inume might fortify her body for the burden of motherhood. It matters even less when Emidis is informed of the shocking price of this magic that Inume is working - magic that is quite frankly beyond any capabilities of other augurs.

Emidris may have a child, but in creating life she must donate half of her own lifespan to the child. And the child in question would be born of magic - still of her blood, still of Elric blood, but also of the magic of the very earth on which the kingdom resides.

It is worth the sacrifice, she believes.

oOo

The mystery of Inume is never solved, as far as Emidris is concerned. She makes the effort to ask, of course, making the sort of subtle inquiries that she has found appropriate for the political playing of court. But her efforts are for naught, as Inume will not reveal anything of actual import.

She dances around revealing her age, agile in her deflection of curiosities that seem nearly passe. As far as Emidris can reckon, Inume is ageless, part of a traveling group of augurs who deign themselves nomads yet she is not truly part of their herd. A Gatekeeper is all Inume will say and that only leaves Emidris with more questions.

Still, she considers Inume to be a friend, albeit a strange one, and she looks forward to the rare days that she will spot the flash of Inume's milky skin from the castle keep. Those days grow more and more rare as it becomes obvious that Emidris is with child.

Perhaps Inume does not feel the need to visit now that it is clear that this babe will be born safely.

Emidris does not know. She is simply overwhelmingly grateful that Inume had stumbled across her that auspicious day, for such a meeting had very likely saved Emidris' life, her marriage, and the future of the Nordaltarn kingdom.

It never occurs to Emidris that her fateful meeting with Inume had been anything but coincidence.

oOo

"Edvard of House Elric, the first of his name, the Second Heir of the Nordaltarn throne, son of Prince Perseus of the House of Elric …."

Emidris suppresses a sigh as the squire continues with the bloviated announcement of her son's full parentage, including land titles that date back at least as far as the war-won possessions of the first Elric to walk this kingdom. It is, of course, quite the impressive list, but Emidris is far more concerned with the way her infant son fusses in her arms, hungry and tired. Subtly, she raises her eyes to meet her husbands, but finds his gaze locked onto his Uncle, who has also begun to fuss in his own way.

King Arcturus of the House of Elric is not best pleased that a child has taken so much attention.

He is a mad king, as far as Emidris can opine, and she is hard-pressed not to feel terror for her newborn son. In the lands from which the Elrics hailed, she has learned that it is not unheard of for displeased rulers to commit infanticide.

She does not what her Edvard to be in that sort of danger. Not when she had sacrificed so much to bring him into this world - and not when that sacrifice was a secret to all, even her husband. None must ever know that Edvard was born of magic, that he likely has magic swimming through his veins even if his eyes are the same hard-chip slate as the rest of the Elric House.

Emidris settles Edvard closer to her breast, shushing him under her breath as she casts her eyes to the eagerly attentive crowd of the court, half of which gaze at the King with zeal and the other half which stare at Edvard with hope and wonderment. Discomfited by the notion that her child would one day rule all of these people, Emidris sweeps her gaze further out -

White hair, a youthful face, keen persimmon eyes flittering in the light of the candelabras. Emidris stiffens, breath cold in her lungs, as she locks eyes with Inume, who has fit herself nicely into the furthest corner of the room and smiles at the court in front of her, as if amused by the ways of mortals. Which is likely very true, for all that Emidris has come to understand of her friend.

Inume's smile widens when it becomes clear that Emidris has spotted her. She waves, nothing more than a flutter of her fingers - the same fingers that had cast golden-white magic over Emidris' womb not ten moons previous.

Emidris cannot comprehend why or how Inume had made it so far into the castle, though surely there must have been a purpose. Her comprehension is further thwarted by the fact that Inume seems to disappear right in the shadows the second Emidris' attention is drawn away by the priest and the healers seeking to baptize her child in the oils of the single God so worshipped by the House of Elric and indeed many of the higher-born nobles in Nordaltarn. She carefully passes Edvard to the priest, watching hawkishly as he performs the sacrament ritual, and then gratefully taking possession of her son once his wee head has been dipped in clove water.

She does not see Inume again that night, but she knows better than to doubt her own vision. The augur - the Gatekeeper - the woman had been there. And Inume always had a purpose, of that much Emidris was certain.

oOo

Emidris hears the familiar voice just outside the nursery and knows instantly that it is not a stroke of luck that her husband had chosen to accompany her this evening to spend time with Edvard away from wet nurses and prying eyes. She swiftly closes her hand over the top of Perseus' before he is able to reach for the dagger sheathed in his belt; he makes his displeasure known with a frosty glare that Emidris does her best to ignore as she hastens to the nursery, opening and closing the door behind them as quickly as possible.

"Little Prince, such a weight is on your shoulders," Inume sing-songs, smiling as Edvard closes his hand over the bone-white finger held aloft over his head. "A wise Seer has told me much about your life, Little Prince, and I must confess that you have quite an interesting journey ahead of you…"

"What is the meaning of this?" demands Perseus once it becomes apparent that Inume is very clearly not a wet nurse and that she is very much not alone.

Emidris blinks once at the silent man standing in the middle of the room, somewhat alarmed by his tall stature and the array of throwing knives shoved into his belt, all without sheaths and each glinting dangerously. He is fair-haired and fair-faced, possessing a rather serious disposition that does not seem quick to joy nor quick to anger. She has never seen this man before, let alone in the company of Inume. Although, given that it had been over two summers since she last saw Inume, she supposes it is possible that her friend had allied with a companion in that time.

Or, as she will come to learn, a husband.

"We are Haldruil and Inume of the Clan of Solvej, my Lord and Lady," Inume introduces breezily as she directs her attention away from Edvard. "My husband and I come bearing news from the south, if we might bend your ears."

"How did you get into the castle? Tell me right this instant," Perseus commands, though it comes out with less authority than usual, evidence that he is thrown by this encounter. "And step away from my son, lest I feel the urge to correct your behavior with the thirst of my blade."

Emidris goes to open her mouth to explain, to deescalate the situation, but her teeth click together when Inume shoots her a sharp glance. Oh. Yes, of course. It wouldn't do at all to reveal that she already knows Inume, for that would lead to questions that Emidris would not answer even under threat of death. Inume's wisdom in concealing their acquaintance is brilliant, if not somewhat uncomfortable. Emidris will have to mind her tongue.

"I must petition you, my Lord, to cease your idle threats to my wife," says Haldruil, though he makes no move to touch the knifes on his person. He is of a Clan, though, and even with as little as Emidris understands of magic, she's sure that he would not need those knifes to cause Perseus lasting damage, such is the way he holds himself. Haldruil is the most obvious warrior she has ever seen, save exception for possible Ander, her husband's sole personal guard.

Inume had married a warrior augur? The notion is almost as difficult to reconcile as the idea that Inume had married at all. After all, she had once told Emidris that Gatekeepers did not marry, for it was a fool's errand to love a mortal - but something had changed. Emidris is in no position to query, but she dearly wants to know the answers to this question. This entire situation feels rather precarious.

Her supposition is correct, for this is the night that Perseus of House Elric makes an alliance with the Clan of Solvej to halt the civil war brewing in Nordaltarn by any means necessary.

Including sacrificing the life of the Mad King.

oOo

Inume visits Emidris for the last time once the civil war has calmed with the signing of the treaty with the augur clans and the announcement of Perseus' decree that all augurs within Nordaltarn would reside in the southernmost village of Sassa, home of the Clan of Solvej.

Inume is not herself that evening. She observes Emidris' pregnancy with a hard stare, cruelly and needlessly reminding Emidris of the cost of such magic. "Ever is the price, you have surely damned yourself to death twice over," she declares as she stalks around the Queen's chambers. "Foolish girl."

Emidris eyes the way in which Inume's hands have rested over her flat belly, an unconscious gesture that is all the more telling for the tension pinching at the corners of Inume's oddly colored eyes. "I have not been the only foolish one," she observes calmly, for it is the only thing she can do. When she fell pregnant this time and the babe took to her womb, she had known what the cost would be, what the birth of this child would demand in exchange. She does not require a reminder.

Inume's laugh is derisive. "Yes, but my baby will not kill me as forthrightly as yours will kill you."

Emidris bites her lip. "I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, my friend."

A hard gesture of a hand, then a withering sigh. "I have told you once that it is folly for Gatekeepers to entertain marriage, as surely mortal hearts are not as hardy as our own, and that is certainly true, though not for the reason you might expect. You see, Gatekeepers are everlasting, doomed to outlive their loves - unless -" Inume stops, her breath catching. "Unless a child is beget from the union."

Perhaps it is because Emidris is a mere mundane mortal, but she cannot quite touch upon the vastness of Inume's worry. She shakes her head, placing down the comb that she had been pulling through her hair. "Is it not fortuitous, then, that this child has ensured you will not suffer the pain of outliving Haldruil?"

"This child has made me mortal," Inume clarifies with a faint sneer that does not fully cover the blatant fear now floating freely from her erratic pacing. "Worse yet, this child will not understand what she is until the Great One uncoils from His long sleep at the turning of the tide- No, no. I should not be telling this to you."

"Inume…"

Inume straightens her shoulders. "It matters not, for this is not the reason I have come to you this night," she mutters, opening her cloak to pull out of small, squat book that even to Emidris seems to reek of magic. "My Lady, I beseech you to place this book on the shelves of your library so that one day, when my daughter walks the stone halls of this castle, she might find this tome and understand what will become of her."

Gingerly, Emidris takes the book, unsettled by the way the cover hums with warning beneath her palms, as if a swarm of bees have been trapped within the pages. "I will, of course, do as you ask," she says, placing the book of magic aside. "But would it not be better to show your daughter this book yourself?"

Inume is silent for a long moment, persimmon eyes unseeing even though she stares directly at the Queen of Nordalta. Then, with a cloudy gaze, she murmurs, "It would not be safe in my possession. Not any longer."

It is the last time she sees Inume, for Emidris dies in childbirth, readily paying the price of magic in exchange for the lives of her twin infants. She lives only long enough to name them.

Emidris does not live long enough to learn that only a few moons later, Inume and the Clan of Solvej parish in a blaze set by mundane men - save for a single babe with eyes of orchids and magic that is forever ties to the earth itself.

A/N: And I'm back to this story! Hoping for weekly updates as we move into a sort of undefined Part Two - or, I guess, sequel - of SERPENTINE. Going to be putting all of my energy into finishing this story, but the chapters will be about as rough as they have been. This is, after all, a rough draft of the thing I'm polishing up for publication - although, the benefit of this is that there will be enough changes that I probably (90%) won't ever pull this version offline.

Anyway, this is the first and last time we'll be hearing from Emidris and Inume. Think of this as like a prologue of sorts for Part Two, but also a clarification for some of the mystery that's arisen. I would like to point out that Nordaltarn is the kingdom, Nordalta is the castlekeep, and Nord is the village just below. Debating on whether or not to just say "fuck it" and make my own language, but I figure it's not necessary? IDK. If anyone was wondering, "nord" means "north" in this story. Make of that what you will.

As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.

~cupcakeriot